Why to Sort a Student is a Horrible Job
by Ebenbild
Summary: The Sorting Hat needs a vacation after it was forced to sort a special student. Sadly, Albus isn't happy with the idea. Luckily, there're always old... friends (?) who are willing to help out. If the Hat had known, it would have stayed home... AU Reincarnation-fic.
1. Chapter 1

_**Disclaimer:**__ HP does not belong to me, just the idea I used on the characters… all recognizable things are Rowlings_

_**Information:**__ AU-Sorting, takes place in HP1. Reincarnation-fic!_

xXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxSortingxXxHatxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXx

**sSs**

**WHY TO SORT A STUDENT IS A HORRIBLE JOB**

**sSs**

Sometimes sorting at Hogwarts was easy. Sometimes it was difficult. And sometimes there was just no way to endure the things that followed a sorting…

"You know, Albus, I think I need a vacation" Albus Dumbledore turned and looked at the Sorting Hat, sitting on the shelf.

"A vacation? Why do you think so?" Albus asked astonished.

"I think I am getting too old to go on and on without a break" the Sorting Hat replied.

"When you are talking about the last sorting…" Albus Dumbledore began, but the Hat interrupted him.

"You have no idea what happened, Albus!" it cried. "It was not just me doing… you know! It was much, much, _much _worse!"

"But…"

"No! I take a vacation! The next seven years at least! Or make it eight – just to be sure!"

Albus looked at it bewildered.

"But why? What happened that you…?!"

"You know that I am not allowed to talk about anything I see in the heads of students" the Hat interrupted. "Just accept that I cannot go through it again! I endured it once for nearly a hundred years – I will not do it again. Once was one time too much!"

"I still do not understand…"

"And you don't have to" the Hat answered shuddering. "You will see it soon enough. Trouble is always following him like his shadow. I like a quiet life quite well, thank you!"

"But…"

The Sorting Hat just shook itself fiercely to indicate a 'no' while it remembered the Sorting from last evening…

sSsSsSs

"Well, what do we have here?" the Hat inquired while shifting through the life of the eleven year old boy beneath him.

It had just penetrated the most resent thoughts, starting from there while going backwards.

"Excited you are, excited to be here, lad, aren't you?" the Hat asked grinning. "And knowledgeable. You must have read ahead. That seems like a Ravenclaw-trait to me…"

It shifted through the next thoughts of the boy.

"You have read the books for your lessons – very well done. A well prepared mind is something Ravenclaw loved in her children. And then the Muggle things you know…" it started on some older memories, shifting through the years of Muggle school and library visits.

"Politics, laws, science… why by Merlin and Morgana did you decide to read a book about Christmas decoration?!"

"It sounded usable at that time" the boy beneath him answered unconcerned.

"Usable?! Christmas decoration?!"

"The colors are bright and it mostly looks ridiculous when you decorate too much, don't you think so, too?"

"And the ballet-book?"

The boy just shrugged.

The Sorting Hat snorted and decided to go on.

"And there's also some vast knowledge about magic in there…" it continued muttering while diving in the memories. "…but the next time you should choose some different books. Whatever you read – knowing the Dark Arts is nothing a young boy like you should do…"

The boy just shrugged unconcerned.

"Knowledge is knowledge" he said.

"Stubborn, too" the Hat sighted. "And you like to protect. You like to teach and to show your knowledge. You really sound like a Ravenclaw to me."

"But if I don't want to go to Ravenclaw, may I go to Hufflepuff or Gryffindor?"

"I am the one to choose, boy" the Hat said irritated.

"But I would like to go to Gryffindor or Hufflepuff this time."

"You do not have the traits for Hufflepuff. You might be loyal – but not to anyone but yourself."

"Then Gryffindor. You said yourself that I like to protect."

"But only when there is something to gain from it" the Hat answered. "That's not a Gryffindor-trait."

The boy pouted.

"No. No I think knowledge it is…"

"You said that the last time also. But I do not want to be in Ravenclaw again."

"Again?!" the Hat asked astonished.

"Yeah" the boy answered. "And there is definitely no way for me to gain access to Gryffindor or Hufflepuff?"

"No."

The answer was a sight.

"Well, then…" the boy said and suddenly the hat was swamped with knowledge it had not found before. It shrieked a word and fell on the ground. The hall stopped silence, everybody looking at the Hat in shock. They could not have heard what they thought they had…!

Behind the Hat at the teachers table you could see the open-mouthed Albus Dumbledore, frozen with his hands still looking as if he had wanted to start clapping. Next to him Professor Quirrell was choking on his salad.

Professor Flittwick squeaked one time and fell to the floor. Minerva McGonagall had let go of the scroll in her hands and Professor Snape had landed head-one in the porridge-bowl.

The Slytherins were staring as if they just had been hailed the ballet-dancers of the month.

"SLYTHERIN!" the Hat shrieked again astonished after it had fallen from the head of the youngster. "What were you thinking deceiving me, you cunning bastard?!"

The hall was still silent. Everybody looked with wide, unbelieving eyes at Harry Potter. The boy just chuckled, picked up the Hat and sat it back on the chair.

"I'm not a bastard" he answered still chuckling. "My parents were married."

"Yes, this time around."

"Well, but they were and that's all that counts" Harry answered the grumbling Hat, smiled and went to the Slytherin-table.

sSsSs

The Hat on the shelf shuddered again.

No, another seven years with Salazar Slytherin – even if he called himself now 'Harry Potter' – was nothing the Sorting Hat wanted to endure. It was sure that soon Christmas decoration would find its way to Gryffindor tower and every other part of the castle Salazar would like to change. And it really did not want to know what Salazar was planning with his knowledge about ballet. No – _it_ needed a vacation. Should the teachers deal with the sly prankster that Salazar Slytherin was by nature!

**sSs**

xXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxSortingxXxHatxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXx

**sSs**

_So, that's it. It's kind of a different reincarnation-fic sorting. I hope you like it._

_And yes, I know Harry Potter is AU! He __**is**__ Salazar Slytherin reborn after all. And Salazar in Gryffindor – well, that would not go well..._


	2. Chapter 2

_**Disclaimer:**__ HP does not belong to me, just the idea I used on the characters… all recognizable things are Rowlings_

_**Information:**__ AU-Sorting, takes place in HP1. Reincarnation-fic!_

xXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxSortingxXxHatxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXx

**sSs**

**WHY TO SORT A STUDENT IS A HORRIBLE JOB**

**A PRANKSTER'S CASE – THE BEGINNING**

**sSs**

"Albus," the Hat said. "Now, that I am on vacation, would you please find a ride for me? I don't feel like I'm on vacation if I'm still sitting in the same stuffy, old shelf like I do every year…"

Albus Dumbledore just looked up and sighed.

"I never allowed you to go on vacation, Hat," he replied.

If the Hat would have been able to shrug, it would have shrugged.

"I am still on vacation – or are you telling me I haven't earned one?"

This time the Headmaster could do nothing but shake his head. Of course the Hat had earned a vacation. It had sorted students every year since the Founders created it.

"You're a created thing, an object, Hat. You don't get tried. You don't need a vacation," Albus Dumbledore said.

The Hat spluttered.

"I am able to think, therefore I need a vacation!" it said pouting. "And I want to see the world while being on vacation. Oh, how I miss traveling!"

"You never travelled before."

"Did to. I am a Hat, Albus! Of course I travelled!"

"Where to?" Albus said, sceptical.

"Wherever the feet that carried me went, my dear Headmaster," the Hat said joyfully. "And I want to wander again. It's been at least a thousand years since I last saw the outside of these walls with my own eyes… Oh, the fresh air! The sound of the wind! The lasses!"

"Sometimes I wonder if the Founders made a mistake while creating you. You think entirely too human for a hat."

If the Hat would have had a tongue, it would have poked it out at the Headmaster. Or it would have rolled with its eyes – if it had real eyes, that is.

In that moment a knock interrupted their very important discussion and a dishevelled looking Deputy Headmistress entered the room.

"Minerva?" Albus asked the fuming woman.

"Albus!" she said, huffing. "I demand that you will talk to those boys this time around!"

Albus Dumbledore looked at her clueless.

"Those boys?" he repeated.

"Those Weasley-bairn!" Minerva hissed, her Scottish accent heavy on her tongue. "The common rooms! In disarray! The corridors! Full of traps! The classrooms! Newly decorated with Christmas ornaments! It. Is. Enough!_ You!" _she pointed at Albus as if she wanted to pile him with her finger. "You will talk to them! I did everything I could! It's enough! The whole school is a chaos because of these two… bairn!"

Albus nodded frantically to everything she said, his eyes huge, his heart racing. Whatever she wanted, he would do it as long as she left him alone again. An utterly furious Minerva was nothing he wanted to deal with.

"Well, Albus?" she hissed finally.

"Er… what exactly happened?" Albus asked, fighting with himself to keep his relaxed grandfather personality in place.

Minerva McGonagall's eyes narrowed.

"The common rooms," she said slowly. "The red of the Gryffindor common room is green and tiny silver snakes are crawling all over the ceiling and the walls. The red sofas are yellow, the beds are blue with bronze eagles.

The yellow of the Hufflepuff common room is blue with silver badgers crawling all over it. Their couches are those of Gryffindor common room and their beds have turned green with bronze lions on it.

The Ravenclaw common room is yellow with black red eagles flying all over the ceiling and black snakes crawling over the walls. Their sofas are green and their beds are red with bronze eagles on it. And don't even start on the Slytherin dorms!"

Albus opened his mouth to interrupt her, but she didn't let him.

"Their common room is red with golden lions all over it! They have the Ravenclaw common room couches, decorated with tiny silver snakes. Their beds are yellow and the entrance to the common room from the dorms has changed into snakes who have to open their mouths so that you can even enter the dorms! Given, the snakes please some of the Slytherins – if they weren't black with tiny lions running all over them!"

The Hat snickered.

He had forgotten that Salazar would not even stop at his own house if he was in the mood to prank someone.

_In the mood to _prank_ someone…_

…_to __**prank**__ someone…_

To the Hat's utter sorrow Salazar Slytherin was_**always**_in the mood to prank someone…

"Well, it seems as if someone decided to redecorate a bit…" Albus started.

"A bit?!" Minvera screeched. "A bit?! Tell that Severus – I bet you will find yourself redecorated as potion ingredients if you ever dare to utter that to him! His classroom is a mess! You step in the room and you are suddenly walking on the ceiling! How by Merlin's beard will he be able to brew with his classes if they are all stuck on the ceiling as soon as they set foot in his classroom!"

Albus blinked.

"Is the equipment still on the floor?" he asked.

"No," Minerva huffed.

"Can you lay down things on the ceiling or the upside down equipment?"

"Yes," Minvera hissed.

"Does liquid stay in the cauldrons when you are upside down in the classroom or does it splash on the floor?"

"It stays in the cauldron," Minerva said frowning.

"Well, then I guess, Severus will simply have to teach his students upside down until we find a way to reverse it."

"And my classroom?!" Minerva said enraged. "You don't think I will teach with all those damn green and silver Christmas ornaments around me!"

"Put them down," Albus suggested. That was the wrong thing to say.

The Hat snickered again.

"I. Can't. Put. Them. Down!" Minerva hissed. "We tried everything! Nothing worked! The same goes for Severus' upside down classroom or Filius sunken in one!"

"Sunken in one?" Albus repeated astonished.

"Yes!" Minerva hissed.

"What do you mean with 'sunken in'?"

"I mean 'sunken in' as in: you step in the classroom and sink waist-deep into the floor! Filius vanished utterly!"

"Oh my…" Albus sighed.

"And don't forget poor Pomona! She has to teach in Winter-Wonder-Land if you don't do anything!"

Albus sighed.

"And you are sure it's the Weasley twin who did it?"

Minerva scowled.

"I found them setting up traps in the second floor! They had trapped the whole first floor when I finally found them – don't you even think about defending them! This time they went too far! I. Want. Them. Punished! And _you_ will be the one who does it! Call their parents! Let them stand in the corner like the unruly toddlers they are! Use them as bookshelves! I _don't_ care as long as you get it into their thick heads that they went too far this time!"

The Hat burst out laughing.

_Poor Weasley twins!_

_But that was Salazar Slytherin for you – he always found a perfect scrap-goat without even trying!_

Albus meanwhile nodded and prayed that the furious Deputy Headmistress would leave before her magic got out of hand. He was quite sure that he heard his desk moan under the pressure of her magic.

Minerva turned and stormed out.

"I will bring them to you and you will set them straight, is that clear, Albus?" she could be heard and Albus nodded again frantically.

The Hat groaned as soon as Minerva had left. It was then that it realized what all those pranks truly meant. Salazar Slytherin had to make up for all the time he hadn't been able to prank anyone. If you counted that Salazar Slytherin had been reborn as Harry Potter and had been because of that, stuck in the Muggle world since he was fifteen months old – there was just one thing a sane creature could do now.

_**Run. **_

_Run as far as it could and as fast as it could._

_And Slytherin would not catch the poor, old Sorting Hat! Not if the Hat had a say in it, at least!_

"Find me a lift, Albus!" it begged. "Now! I want to be out of this castle within this day! I don't want to… no, I _can't_ stay here when he's on the run again!"

Albus just looked at the Hat utterly confused.

Of course, that was expected – Albus Dumbledore wasn't able to know that the Weasley twins this time had done nothing wrong. There was a prankster on the loose in Hogwarts – and the Hat pleaded with every deity it had ever heard of, that the prankster would be too preoccupied with his first pranks to notice the Hat leaving. If he wasn't – no, the poor, old Sorting Hat refused to even think about that alternative.

**sSs**

xXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxSortingxXxHatxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXx

**sSs**

_Sorry it took me so long. I had some trouble to decide what Slytherin would do first. _

_Maybe you have some more ideas for pranks? I would still need some…_


	3. Chapter 3

_**Disclaimer:**__ HP does not belong to me, just the idea I used on the characters… all recognizable things are Rowling's_

_**Information:**__ AU-Sorting, takes place in HP1. Reincarnation-fic!_

_To all that send me ideas for pranks: __**THANK YOU VERY MUCH!**_

xXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxSortingxXxHatxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXx

**sSs**

**WHY TO SORT A STUDENT IS A HORRIBLE JOB**

**A PRANKSTER'S CASE – THE CONTINUATION**

**sSs**

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore was at the end of his rope.

A week ago he had had the Weasley-twins in detention. Of course he hadn't been very strict on them; after all, they were still children who needed to learn what was right and what was wrong.

He had given them detention with Filch and then had set out on returning the dorms to what they had been before and disabling the traps in the corridors. He had managed it all – until he started on the classrooms.

Even now, a week later, Albus had not been able to dissolve the hexes on the classrooms and return them to normal.

So when the twins refused to tell him how they did it, he added another week of detention, thinking that they would learn their lesson after that.

Now, a week later, Albus Dumbledore regretted his decision – dearly.

It was Sunday and Albus had had a little lay-in, like every Sunday. After all there were no classes so there also was no need to be up at seven in the morning just to be able to attend breakfast at eight in the Great Hall.

Now Albus dearly regretted his lay-in.

He had planned to enter the Great Hall, expecting a good breakfast of bacon and scrambled eggs, but instead getting that, he found himself in an odd kind of a... mad-house. Albus had no idea how else he should describe it even if there was no chaos - something he normally associated with a mad-house.

The Great Hall had changed.

Absolutely changed.

Over night.

"As if a Potter in Slytherin isn't enough trouble already," Snape said and stopped next to him. "You should have reigned in those Weasley-brats years ago, Headmaster. Clearly they use their only brain cell now to create even more havoc than they did before."

Albus just stared.

"There… is no… proof," he finally said hesitatingly. "Absolutely no proof that it was them…"

The answer was a sneer.

"Like there was never proof that it was Potter and his cronies. Everybody knew it was them – like everybody knows now it is those brats! Do something, Headmaster! Before they will bring down the school around you!"

And with that the potion's master turned around to find another place to eat. He definitely wouldn't eat in the Great Hall today!

Albus just stared, his eyes not leaving the bizarre sight in front of him.

The Great Hall was filled with water – filled up until just beneath the ceiling. There were some charms in place that clearly stopped the water from leaving the Great Hall but inside it was merrily swapping up the walls.

The students that had entered before the prank took effect were sitting on their benches, merrily swinging their fish-tails while eating. Above their heads fishes in all colors of the rainbow circled the candles which miraculously were still burning.

The house tables were floating in their places and the Ground of the Great Hall had vanished, giving space to water, fishes and far below the tables to plants, rocks and other under water life, corals and sand.

In that moment Minerva started swimming in his direction, her fish-tail a shimmering mix of light greens and pink. Her usual hat was replaced by a crown of sea shells and pearls.

Albus just stared at her, not able to believe his eyes.

Then she reached the doors to the Great Hall and stepped out of it.

As if it was magic her fish-tail melted into a pair of slim legs, the fish scales trickling down her legs like water.

"Albus!" she said, looking at him coolly. "Stop staring at the Great Hall as if it was a monster! You're acting –"

"Minerva," Albus interrupted her, not sure what he should say or how he should explain something she definitely hadn't noticed until now. He turned his eyes to her. He wanted to tell her to turn around and have a look at the Great Hall – but what he said in the end was something absolutely different.

"You have cat ears," he didn't dare to mention that her clothing had changed into fur – and he definitely wouldn't mention the tail swishing behind her, irritated. She looked like a humanoid cat, with whiskers twitching on her cheeks. He said nothing about that, too. There was after all just so much you would tell a lady as formidable as Minerva McGonagall.

The Deputy Headmistress eyes widened but before she could act on his information, a furious yell interrupted them.

"Weasley!"

Albus and Minerva looked at each other and then hurried in the direction of the main stair case and the entrance to the dungeons.

In front of the stairs down in his holy halls, stood Severus Snape – fuming.

His robes had changed. They clung now to his body and from his back two enormous, black bat-wings emerged. Where his ears had been just a moment before, huge bat-ears adorned his head. Albus stared at his potion's master.

"Er… yes, sir?"

Ronald Weasley, who had just left the Great Hall to go to toilet, stopped in his tracks and turned to his most hated teacher. The boy's eyes widened when he saw the potion's master, then he started to snicker.

Not that the boy looked any better. He had the tail and ears of a weasel and his robes had changed to red fur.

The snicker turned into suppressed laughter.

Snape scowled.

"Not you, Weasley! Your insufferable brothers! Where are they?" Ronald Weasley instantly stopped snickering when he heard the deadly tone of the potion's master's voice. His eyes widened.

"Er… I have no idea, sir!" he stuttered.

"That's alright, Mr Weasley," Albus said. "There is no evidence that it was your brothers pranking the school."

"Er… when you think so, Professor," the boy replied and when Albus winked him to go on the boy did not hesitate a minute.

Albus instead turned to his potion's master.

"Really, Severus," he scolded. "You can't just assume that –"

"I can assume all I want, Headmaster," Snape hissed. "And I assume that they were the ones who dared to fill up the Great Hall with water and then charmed all the stairways and hallways to lead there!"

Albus blinked when he heard that news.

"Oh, did they?" he asked. "Ingenious!"

The answer was a sneer from Severus and a sigh from Minerva.

"We'll see how ingenious you think it is when you find yourself settled with some animal parts!" Snape sneered.

And way up, balancing on the wooden beams holding the candelabra, a small, green eyed and black haired boy snickered before hissing at one of the walls and vanishing into the newly constructed hole.

Just a few minutes later a desperate cry could be heard throughout the whole castle, all the way to Hogsmeade and then silence again.

It would take Albus Dumbledore three days until he found out that the Sorting Hat was missing.

**sSs**

xXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxSortingxXxHatxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXx

**sSs**

_Sorry it took me so long. I had some trouble to decide what Slytherin would do next – especially with all the prank ideas I was given._

_Thanks for those ideas (those I used and those I finally decided to not use – at least not for this chapter)! I hope I picked some you liked. And don't worry! This definitely won't be the last pranks so if you still have some ideas, I definitely don't mind them xD_


	4. Chapter 4

_**Disclaimer:**__ HP does not belong to me, just the idea I used on the characters… all recognizable things are Rowlings_

_**Information:**__ AU-Sorting, takes place in HP1. Reincarnation-fic!_

_To all that send me ideas for pranks: __**THANK YOU VERY MUCH!**_

xXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxSortingxXxHatxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXx

**sSs**

**WHY TO SORT A STUDENT IS A HORRIBLE JOB**

**A PRANKSTER'S CASE – THE REVELATION**

**sSs**

"Oh, we would be honoured –"

"Absolutely honoured –"

"If this genius –"

"This incredible mind filled with pranks and pranks –"

"Would have belong to one of us."

Minerva McGonagall just refrained from pinching her nose in distress. She had ordered the Weasley-twins in her office to ask them about the pranks and how to dissolve them – just to find herself in the presence of two fan-boys with absolute adoration in their eyes and willing to shoulder every punishment she could come up with just to be able to say that they had a part in those pranks.

In pranks they obviously didn't commit.

"So – who is this prankster if it isn't one of you?" she sighed, hoping against hope that the twins had at least heard some rumors concerning the new jokester in Hogwarts.

"Oh, Professor –"

"Our most beloved Transfiguration's Professor –"

"If we'd knew –"

"Or if we'd just have had a suspect –"

"We'd offer ourselves up as apprentices on a moment's notice!"

"Or as slaves if they won't take any apprentices!"

"Yes, as long as we're near them we'd grovel to their feet –"

"And eat mud for breakfast, lunch and dinner!"

"Oh, how right you are, my brother dearest!"

Minerva just pinched her nose again.

"So you have no idea," she started.

"Absolute no, professor," one of the twins interrupted her.

"But we'd gladly hear you out if you'd have a hunch," the other one added. "After all, it's always good to know who to observe."

"Maybe we'll find them if you'd give us a little more information about them-"

"Information that the teachers gathered, but we lowly students have no way to obtain."

Minerva frowned at the twins, then she pointed at the door.

"Get out of my sight," she said. The twins looked at her with mock-hurt in their eyes.

"Don't you love us anymore, now that there is another great mind in Hogwarts?" one of the twins said with a pleading voice – to Minvera's utter frustration she had still no idea which twin was talking.

"We promise, Professor, we'll do great again the next time," the other twin said.

"Yeah, we'll make you proud again-"

"And you'll be able to scream at us to your heart's content-"

"Like you always do, our beloved Head of House!" they finished together.

"OUT! NOW!" Minerva bellowed, and the twins left.

She waited until her office door was closed, then she buried her head in her hands.

_Pranksters!_

_There were new pranksters in Hogwarts!_

_Oh, how she sometimes hated her life as a professor!_

sSsSs

Meanwhile, in a damp, cool hall, way beneath the known parts of Hogwarts, a hat sat on the wet floor. It was desperately pleading with its capturer to let it go again.

"Please!" it said, begging with all it had. "Please, Salazar! You don't need me! There're a lot of other people in this castle that would gladly help you with your pranks and plans but-"

"_Gúþwine_!" the hat stopped mid-sentence when it heard itself addressed like that.

"There is no need to flatter me anymore," it said, this time sounding bitter. "I am no longer your 'comrade in war'."

Salazar just snorted.

"Only if you refuse to work with me, _gúþwine_," he said. "And be truthful: you _will_ work with me again. You can't refuse."

The Hat laughed at that.

"Oh, Salazar!" it cried. "You never change! Do you truly think that I will join you just because you kidnaped me? Gods! I won't change my mind even if you would feed me to your damn basilisk!"

Salazar pouted.

"Do you truly think I brought you to the Chamber of Secrets just to feed you to my basilisk? Are you mad? She wouldn't even think of eating you! After all, you're nothing but old and sweaty leather!"

This time the Hat harrumphed. "Thank you for your thoughtful words of wisdom. I really feel appreciated."

"You're welcome."

The Hat just sighed at that response.

_Damn Salazar and his caring comebacks! Not!_

"Well, back to the original reason I brought you, _gúþwine_," Salazar said in that moment.

"As I told you: I. Won't. Help. You!" the Hat interrupted heatedly.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Salazar said. "Just tell me why there is a Cerberus in my school."

If the Hat would have had real eyes, it would have rolled them.

"Because of the damn stone, it is protecting," it answered.

"Stone?"

"Some stone of Nicholas Flamel's, or such nonsense."

"Ah. That stone. Why, in the Gods name, is the philosopher's stone at Hogwarts?"

"Something about protection," the Hat answered and it would have shrugged its shoulders if it had them, that is.

Salazar's eyebrows rose.

"So, to make it clear. They hid the philosopher's stone in the castle and to protect it they brought in a _Cerberus_? Which fool decided to do something idiotic like that? The old goat, maybe?"

The Hat started.

"Old goat?" it repeated, not understanding the reverence.

Salazar just shrugged.

My last prank gave every one parts of their animagus form as obvious body parts. The Headmaster is a goat, so old goat does the trick, don't you think so, too?"

The Hat just groaned.

"Tell me at least it wasn't one of your long term pranks!" it pleaded with the Founder of Slytherin House. Said founder just shrugged.

"No, don't worry. Tomorrow is tutu-day, after that girls-day and after-"

"What, in the Gods name, did you do?"

Salazar grinned.

"I spelled the entrance of the Great Hall with a slowly evolving curse. If they don't find the counter, it will run its course until Hallowe'en."

The Hat groaned. "Salazar!"

"What?"

"What did Helga tell you?"

Salazar blinked and then looked at the wall thinking.

"Er… not to curse the entrance of the Great Hall?" he finally said hesitatingly.

"And what did you promise?"

"Not to curse the entrance of the Great Hall," Salazar repeated slowly.

"And what _did_ you do?"

Salazar thought about it.

"Jinxed the entrance of the Great Hall?" he finally offered.

"You cursed it!"

Salazar pouted for a moment. Then his eyes lightened up and he started grinning.

"And that's the reason you have to work with me!" he concluded. "After all, I'd forget all my promises if you weren't there to remind me of them!"

The Hat spluttered.

"I'm not your mother, Salazar!"

"No, _gúþwine_," Salazar said, grinning evilly. "But you are my best friend. And that counts three times as much as being my mother. Don't you think so, too, _Godric_?"

**sSs**

xXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxSortingxXxHatxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXx

**sSs**

_**Explanation:**_

_Gúþwine – old English for 'Comrade in war'_

_**sSs**_

_Sorry it took me so long. I know, there's not a lot pranking in the chapter but I hoped you liked it anyway._

'_Till next time._

_Ebenbild_


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

_**Disclaimer:**__ HP does not belong to me, just the idea I used on the characters… all recognizable things are Rowlings_

_**Information:**__ AU-Sorting, takes place in HP1. Reincarnation-fic!_

_To all that send me ideas for pranks: __**THANK YOU VERY MUCH!**_

xXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxSortingxXxHatxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXx

**sSs**

**WHY TO SORT A STUDENT IS A HORRIBLE JOB**

**A PRANKSTER'S CASE – THE CONCLUSION**

**sSs**

It was another one and a half weeks Hallowe'en, and Albus Dumbledore just wished to curl up and cry.

He had long since given up on removing the curse on the entrance of the Great Hall. He had as well given up on the cursed classrooms. If he would have been a lesser man he'd knelt in front of the student body two weeks ago, pleading with the prankster to give him the counter curse. Since he was Albus Dumbledore, he had opted for closing his office door, hexing it with every spell and ward to stop people from coming in, before burying his head in his hands, crying.

Until some weeks ago, Albus Dumbledore had thought of himself as the most powerful and one of the most knowledgeable wizards alive – maybe with the exception of the Dark Arts. There it would be Tom Riddle who knew the most.

And then the pranks had started and Albus Dumbledore had begun reeling.

There was nothing,_ nothing_ Albus could do to remove the pranks!

He had tried everything! Everything!

In the end he had turned to his friend Nicholas Flamel and had literally begged the man on his knees to take a look at the curses on the school.

The man had come, looked them over and then had shaken his head.

"There's nothing I can do, Albus," he had told the Headmaster with utter regret in his voice. "Whoever did the curse – he has knowledge about magic that I have never been able to learn."

"But who –"

"Except for me and Perenelle? I have absolute no idea," the older wizard answered sighing. "The only thing that I can tell is that the curse isn't harmful. I suggest to bear with it until it's gone. It should just take a few weeks."

Albus had not been happy with that advice.

That didn't mean that he didn't think some of the pranks that happened daily when entering the Great Hall weren't fabulous.

It just meant that he had enough trouble with the usual berating from his staff without adding to their agitation by keeping them holed up all day in hexed classrooms. Unfortunately there wasn't even the option of simply changing the rooms. The rooms' decoration just followed and in the end they had two hexed classrooms of each and not just one like in the beginning.

Unfortunately the end-result was that the teachers were even more agitated.

Not a result Albus had wanted to archive.

Still, there had happened some pranks worth remembering in the last weeks…

sSsSs

There had been some very fond memories for Albus to make the last couple of weeks.

One of them had been on the day, Albus could enter the Great Hall again without getting turned into a fish. He had first been flummoxed, that the curse on the Hall had finally seemingly evaporated, but then enjoyed it very much. The bright red colour of his scales had become somewhat tiresome over the last few days, so he was clearly grateful that the fish theme, after nearly one and a half weeks, had finally worn of.

Instead the Great Hall had returned to its original looks.

Albus was, because of that development, very cheerful that day. He sat down on his chair at the head table, filled his plate with some bacon and eggs and then turned to Filiberta Flitwick to ask for the toast.

"Filiberta, my dear, could you please hand me some of those delicate slices of white toast?" Albus asked, his eyes travelling over the Great Hall in the process.

There weren't a lot of students in the hall right now.

The Hufflepuff table had just two students right now: Susan Bones and Hannah Abott.

On the Ravenclaw table sat Antonia Goldstein, Michaela Corner and Luna Lovegood.

The Slytherin table was occupied by Daphne Greengrass, Marcia Flint, Vincentia Crebbe and Draconia Malfoy.

The Gryffindor table was oddly full for the early hour. Nevaeh Longbottom was sitting next to Percilla Weasley. On the other side of the table sat Hermione Granger, Sally Potter – why was the girl sitting at the Gryffindor table? She was wearing her Slytherin robes and a gaudy red and green striped wizard hat, but still seemed to feel at home at the red and gold table! – and the Weasley-twins, Freda and Georgia.

Albus quite loved those two, last named, ingenious girls.

Quite the pranksters, they were.

_Stop._

_Something was wrong with that thought._

_Something was wrong with that __**scene**__._

Albus had to take a double take to even understand what was different in the like usual cheerful hall.

It took another two moments until Albus could place what had happened.

"Filiberta!" he cried.

"I'm sitting next to you, Albina, you don't have to shout my name!" the disgruntled charms mistress chided the Headmistress.

"But, but… Filiberta!"

"Yes?"

"You're… you're a girl!"

"It's always surprising that some people need to state the obvious!" another voice chimed in, at that moment.

Albus looked up and saw a gorgeous woman standing in front of the table.

The woman's black, shiny hair was cascading down her back in soft locks, ending at her waist. Her face was even more beautiful than a veela's and her black, fathomless eyes gave Albus a cold shiver of dread.

"Severa," he said.

The potion mistress sneered.

"You didn't just call me 'Severa', Headmistress, did you?" the smooth voice gave Albus the urge to run.

"Er… I didn't, Severa, I really didn't!" the headmaster – pardon, headmistress – denied.

Then he – pardon, she – thought about her words again and reddened.

"Well, it seems the curse is also affecting our names and titles, Severa," she finally said.

"Headmistress!" then the potion mistress stopped and scowled. "It seems you are right, Headmistress."

For a moment the potion mistress kept quiet, then she turned abruptly and strode of to the Gryffindor table where Ronalda Weasley was just joining her sisters for breakfast.

Just for Ronalda to stop mid-step when seeing Draconia Malfoy sitting at the Slytherin table.

"Who by Merlin is this sweet girl at the Slytherin table?" Ronalda, newly flooded with early teen-girl hormones, asked flabbergasted.

"Draciona Malfoy," Sally Potter answered instantly. "You should know that, Ronya."

Ronalda's mouth opened in disbelieve, but before she could even think about objecting, the potions mistress reached their table.

"Misses Weasley!" Severa Snape called and the twins as well as Percilla and Ronalda Weasley – Albina Percilla Wulfrieda Brianna Dumbledore wasn't sure if one of those Weasleys once had been boys or if in the end all had been girls all along – turned around to face her.

"Yes, professor Snape?" Percilla Weasley asked. It was in that moment that the youngest Weasley, who had sat down to eat, let go of her fork, screeching.

"Professor Snape?" she screeched. "That gorgeous woman is Snape of all people?! She's even more gorgeous that Draciona Malfoy – and that woman is a sight for the eyes!"

Draciona Malfoy at the Slytherin table, with her shiny blond hair and beautiful, huge grey eyes, blushed tomato-red.

"Weasley! Don't you ever dare to speak about me like that ever again!" she screeched.

"Shut up, Malfoy! I can say whatever I want!"

"It's my body, so shut up you bitch!"

"I don't think that Ronya is useful to breed puppies, Draconia," Sally Potter stated grinning. "So maybe 'bitch' is the wrong term to use for her."

Draconia Malfoy just scoffed.

"Shut up, you wanna-be Gryffindor!"

The answer was a smirk on Sally Potter's face.

"Being in Slytherin is just boring, Draconia. But I don't need to be a Gryffindor. Hufflepuff would also be a great place to be."

The answer was a sneer from the other Slytherin-girl.

"Then why aren't you there, Potter?" she asked.

The answer was a disconcerting grin on the other eleven year old girl's face.

"Because Hogwarts actually likes their students to survive their graduations – at least the Hufflepuff ones. The Sorting Hat didn't seem too concerned with a few vanished Slytherins sometime in the future."

Draconia Malfoy scoffed.

"Potter!" Severa Snape interjected in that moment. "Ten points from Gryffindor for your cheek!"

The Gryffindors stared at the potion's mistress.

Sally Potter blinked surprised.

"But I'm a Slytherin, Professor Snape," she finally declared with a confused look. "You should know that. You're my Head of House since nearly two month…"

Silent filled the Great Hall for the next few minutes until Filiberta couldn't hold it anymore and burst out laughing while still looking at the shocked face of one Severa Snape.

Oh, yes, that had been a memory worth making.

sSsSs

The next one had followed just a day later.

That time, after entering, Albus checked himself over to make sure he hadn't gained another unknown body part after entering the Great Hall. Being a woman for a day had been awkward enough once, he had no interest in repeating the incident if he didn't have to. He had been far too happy to wake up as a man again to repeat the performance yesterday.

Thankfully, when he touched his chest after entering the Great Hall, said chest was still a very flat and manly chest.

He sighed in relieve, strode to the head table, drew back his chair and after arranging his tutu sat down to have breakfast.

_Tutu._

_He had arranged his tutu._

_Merde._

And then the next thought entered his mind and he summoned his personal house-elf.

The house-elf returned just in time to rip the camera out of the house-elf's and take a picture of the entering potion's master.

It was a perfect shot.

Even weeks later Albus would look at the picture of his sour potion's master fondly, while said potion's master's eyes widened in terror when his black teaching robes changed into a pink and fluffy tutu.

_Priceless._

And the picture made a very good addition to his collection of different Professors while subjected to various pranks on his desk. A very nice addition, indeed.

And of course, Albus had added the final touch to the photo itself in golden ink.

"Severina," proudly proclaimed the bottom of the picture.

Maybe, just maybe, Albus would be able to hold on tight until the curse finally had run its course. Of course, Albus didn't know that his meagre collection of snap shots was nothing compared to the Ravenclaw Head of House's. Filius Flitwick had been collecting photos like that since the very first incident weeks ago – and one day, that he swore to himself, one day he would hang up all those nice little pictures of Albus or the other professors in the halls of Hogwarts.

It just would take some time because until now no one of them had gotten on his nerves long enough to excuse such a treatment.

_Regrettably._

sSsSs

"You told me that the tutu-day would come first!" A hat sat pouting on the wet floor of the Chamber of Secrets.

The boy next to him shrugged.

"You didn't think I would tell you the truth, did you, Godric?" he replied innocently.

The answer was a whine.

"I'm your best friend, Salazar!"

"Aren't," the boy answered while poking out his tongue. "You're nothing but enchanted leather."

The answer was another whine.

"Am not!"

"Are to!"

"Am not!"

"Are to!"

"But… but you said it yourself!"

"And you said you wouldn't help me. Godric would never say something like that. Rowena might, Helga might, but Godric wouldn't. So you clearly aren't Godric."

"But… but…"

"You know the words that will bring you in the fold again, _gúþwine. _Say them and I'll tell you my next plan."

The answer was a pout.

Then a sigh.

Then another pout.

And finally…

"Alright! Alright! I'll help you! And now tell me what your genious mind has come up with next!"

The answer was a smile.

"Next we're doing something serious. We're professors after all –"

"Actually we're a Hat and a first year –"

Salazar just waved away that interruption.

"- And as professors it's our duty to protect the students," he finished.

"What are you planning?"

The answer was a grin.

"We'll create some chaos at Hallowe'en," Salazar replied. "It's time for some professors to take the threat to students serious again."

**sSs**

xXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxSortingxXxHatxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXx

**sSs**

_Sorry it took me so long. I know, there's not a lot of new pranks in the chapter but I hoped you liked it anyway._

'_Till next time._

_Ebenbild_


	6. Chapter 6

_**Disclaimer:**__ HP does not belong to me, just the idea I used on the characters… all recognizable things are Rowlings_

_**Information:**__ AU-Sorting, takes place in HP1. Reincarnation-fic!_

_To all that send me ideas for pranks: __**THANK YOU VERY MUCH!**_

xXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxSortingxXxHatxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXx

**sSs**

**WHY TO SORT A STUDENT IS A HORRIBLE JOB**

**A STUDENT'S CASE – THE BEGINNING**

**sSs**

Hermione's heart was pounding hard and fast.

She was sweating and her eyes were wide with fear.

In front of her stood a troll.

A huge, fat, smelly troll.

And she was stuck between it and the sinks of the bathroom behind her.

"I'm about to die," she whimpered to herself. "I'm about to die! I don't want to die! I don't want to die now, that I finally have some friends."

Well, at least she had one friend – an odd friend but a friend nonetheless.

sSsSsSs

Before Hogwarts, Hermione Jane Granger, had been a lonely, know-it-all with no friends and nothing but her books to keep her company.

That was, until she was informed, that she was a witch and would from now on attend Hogwarts, School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Of course, studious as Hermione was, she instantly bought every book in the book-store of Diagon Alley that could help her in her new world. One of those books she bought was 'Hogwarts – A History.'

She had read that book at least ten times and she adored it.

The history of the founding of Hogwarts was better than any thriller she had ever read. She had loved the book – and she had tried to share it with those children she met on the train.

When she had found out about Hogwarts, she had thought that she finally wouldn't stand out anymore. She had thought that the people there would be exactly like her.

She was wrong.

While she had found a nice boy on the train whom she could sit with, as soon as she was sorted into Gryffindor – exactly like her idol, the Headmaster of Hogwarts – she was shunned by her housemates.

"Insufferable know-it-all," they called her.

"Bloody book-freak," they said.

Just a few days after her first day of school she had learned to hide from her classmates in the library.

It was there, that she met Harry Potter the first time.

The day she met him, she had been hiding from Lavender Brown's sneer and Ronald Weasley's hurtful remarks. She had entered the library and had gone for the history section to hide away in this secluded and normally empty part of the library.

Just that it wasn't empty that day.

A lonely boy was sitting at one of the tables, a battered book in his hands, reading.

Hermione hesitated.

"You may join me, if you want to," the boy spoke up without looking up from his book. Then he gestured to the chair across from him. "Sit down. There's definitive enough space for both of us."

She had hesitated just another second, but then she had put down her book-bag next to the table and had sat down on the chair across from him.

She wasn't sure what to do, or how to interact with the boy in front of her.

"Er… I," she started, before taking a deep breath and plunked on. "I'm Hermione Granger."

Then she held out her hand for it to be shaken.

The boy paused in his reading, before setting down his book and slowly reaching out for her hand. He stood, took her hand and kissed it.

"_Hit is ārweorþ þē tō mētenne, mīn hlǣfdīgan_," he said. "I am Salazar Taliesin Haraldr Iacomus Slytherin. I am very pleased to make your acquaintance."

Hermione blushed. She had never met someone with manners like him – even if she didn't understand the first thing he had said. Then her brain caught up with what he had told her and she got angry.

"I'm quite sure your name isn't Salazar Slytherin," she said coolly. "The Slytherin name has died out centuries ago and there was no one named after the founder for a lot longer than that."

The answer she got was a radiating smile.

"Godric is slowly turning insane, it seems," the boy said, while slightly shaking his head. "To sort you into his own house when you shouldn't be there at all! I am sorry, little Rowena, for your suffering in the house of the idiots."

Hermione's frown deepened, at least until she saw the Slytherin crest on his chest. She had read of the hatred between Gryffindors and Slytherins in 'Hogwarts – A History', after all. Now, after she had seen the crest, she was surprised that he even talked to her civilly.

Anyway, she had to defend her house.

"Gryffindors aren't idiots," she said, trying to sound cool and insulted and not like the little girl she felt like. He still hadn't let go of her hand.

The answer was another smile.

"You don't go to Gryffindors if you want to know why and wherefores of the universe," he said to her. "They're normally not the studious type."

Hermione opened her mouth to retort to that remark, but he continued on before she had even uttered one word. "If you want to have someone who has your back in battle however, you want to have a Gryffindor fighting with you."

"Huh?"

The answer of her confused exclamation was another smile.

"If you want to win a battle, find a Gryffindor," the boy said grinning. "If you want to find out the enemy's secret plans, find a Slytherin. If you want to win a war, take both."

Hermione opened her mouth to tell him that those two would never get along well enough to work together, but he continued before she could utter a word: "If you want to have knowledge about everything and nothing, find a Ravenclaw. If you want to instill loyalty in people, find a Hufflepuff. And if you want to do the impossible, take all four."

"I don't think it's as easy as that –"

Hermione was interrupted again before she could voice her objection. "The best evidence, that I am right, is Hogwarts itself," the boy said. "It was Salazar Slytherin who had the vision and the ambition to start a school. He had the cunning to convince the others to work with him. But it was Godric Gryffindor who had the courage to go through with the plan; it was Rowena Ravenclaw who had the knowledge how to do it and Helga Hufflepuff who had the sedulity to go on even when the others nearly collapsed under the pressure. Hogwarts was the impossible at that time, and now, even a thousand years later, it is still standing proudly. There is no way that the founders would have been able to build it with one of them missing."

Hermione stared at the other boy confused.

"That still doesn't explain why you think you can call yourself Salazar Slytherin," she finally said.

The answer was a slowly inclined head.

"You're right, there's no one with the name of Slytherin, today," the boy said while clearly contemplating his next words carefully. "But that doesn't mean that there aren't people who call others by that name. I've been called 'Slytherin' by three quarters of the school since I got sorted into the house of the snakes. It's a good reason as any to adopt the name as my own, don't you think so?"

"So you decided to call yourself 'Salazar Slytherin'?" Hermione asked frowning.

"Well, actually it's Sszalazsar Talieszsin Haraldr Iacomusz Sslytherin."

This time Hermione stared at her opponent. She had never met someone who was able to produce a different sound for every 's' he spoke. It sounded nearly as if he was hissing the names.

"Er… I don't think I could repeat that," she said.

The boy just nodded.

"Naturally you couldn't," he said. "Your throat isn't built to produce half of those sounds."

"And yours is?" Hermione asked miffed.

"Sure," the boy answered smiling; then he made a motion as if he waved his words away with one of his hands. "How else would I be able to speak my name?"

Hermione frowned at the other boy again.

"I thought we established that there's no way for you to be named 'Salazar Slytherin'," she wanted to say, but the boy proceeded before she could even utter a single word of it.

"Of course," the boy continued as if oblivious to her facial expression. "The name my parents gifted me with, has a lot less variation in sound. Harry Jamesz Potter is fairly easy to say."

Hermione noted that the boy was still speaking the 's' in 'James' a little bit different than she was used to. Then his words caught up to her and she gaped at him.

"You're Harry Potter!" she exclaimed and her eyes searched the scar that should be on his forehead. She found it hidden under the thick, black hair. It was oddly pronounced for a decade old scar. She smiled and then continued happily: "I read all about you! You're mentioned in…"

The boy frowned at her when she prattled on about what she had read about him.

"Wherever you've read about me, don't believe whatever they wrote in those absurd stories," Harry Potter interrupted her before she could actually finish her description of what she had been reading about him. "Not one of them ever asked me what happened that night – and I'm quite sure that neither my parents nor their killer ever were able to be interviewed about that night. So, as you can see, there's no way those books can be remotely right."

"But –"

"Ask your Head of House, little Rowena. I'm sure that R'ena will tell you that there are things that even books can't get right," with that he let go of her hand, bowed stiffly in front of her and picked up his book. Then he turned and started to walk away – just to stop a few feet away from her.

Harry turned back to her and bowed again.

"_Forgief mē, mīn hlǣfdīgan_," he said. "I forgot. You're a Gryffindor. You should go to visit the charms' professor. He'll do the same for you that R'ena would have done."

And with another bow the boy vanished into the restricted section of the library. Despite what she had read, there was no indication that he was somehow kept out by magic or that the librarian was informed of his trespassing.

Hermione stood up hastily and tried to follow him. She bounced against an invisible barrier just in front of the entry to the restricted section.

"What do you think you are doing?" the librarian exclaimed angrily behind her, but Hermione didn't listen.

She was far too preoccupied with gawking into the restricted section.

It took Hermione nearly two minutes after Harry Potter had left until she understood what she had just seen. The boy had simply gone into the restricted section of the library, as if it was just another, normal part of the Hogwarts' library, and had vanished from there.

She hesitated another moment, but then her curiosity got the better of her and she crept again near the boundary of the restricted section so that she could look into it.

It was empty.

The boy was gone, vanished from a section of the library that had no door except of the entrance from the normal part of the library.

That was the day, she met Harry Potter for the first time.

sSsSsSs

The next time she met him was in potions' class.

He was the last to enter the classroom and instead to sit down next to his housemates, he chose the empty chair between her and Neville Longbottom.

"Wes þú hál! It's nice to see you again, Miss Hermione," he said smiling. "I hope you are doing well?"

"Er… sure," she said bewildered.

_What was with the clearly visible line between Gryffindor and Slytherin?_

_Was he blind to it?!_

He turned to Neville who gawked at him with wide eyes.

"_Hit is ārweorþ þē tō mētenne, mīn hearra_," he said. "I am Salazar Taliesin Haraldr Iacomus Slytherin. May I inquire your name?"

Neville gaped.

"Er… I'm Neville Longbottom," he finally whispered; then he stopped confused. "Are… how… how can you be a Slytherin by name?"

The answer was a smile.

"I decided to change my name after the hundredth time I was called 'Slytherin' to my face," Harry said. "I guessed that if three thirds of the school wanted to call me 'Slytherin', there was no reason to listen to 'Harry Potter' anymore. Don't you think so, too?"

"Don't answer that, Neville," Hermione advised the utterly confused boy. "I think he wants to confuse us."

Harry flashed a smile at her and then turned to the front of the class where the potions' teacher had just entered the classroom.

The man sneered at Harry, then opened his mouth, saw Harry's House crest and closed it again before turning to Ronald Weasley and embarrassing that boy.

Harry smiled.

"Now, let's have some fun!" he advised and vanished to the ingredients cupboard with some of the other students. He came back with enough ingredients for all three of them and then proceeded to brew his potion while at the same time helping Neville.

"Guess I will be bored in potions long before Hallowe'en," Hermione heard him mumble in the end of the lesson. "Suppose that means I need something else to do with my time… hmmm… hmmm… yes! Can't believe I nearly forget about that old piece of leather! Gonna have to visit him soon!"

Yes, Hermione decided, Harry Potter was definitely an odd fellow – and not-at-all like the boy in the books, she had read about.

sSsSsSs

Over the next month she started to get to know 'Salazar' Potter quite well. He seemed to have developed a dependency to always pop up somewhere near her when she started to feel lonely – or when she was in trouble.

"What do you think you are doing, traitor, hanging out with Slytherins all the time?" Ronald Weasley asked her sneering, just two weeks and a few days before Hallowe'en. He and Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan had shoved her into an empty classroom on the second floor. She had been on her way to the Great Hall for dinner when they had come out of no-where and forced her in there.

"You're spying for them, aren't you, know-it-all?" Ronald said sneering.

"I bet she's thinking that if she can't make friends in Gryffindor, she can at least buy them in Slytherin," Seamus suggested.

"I bet that she's not only buying Saint Potter's friendship but also Malfoy's and all the other wanna-be Death Eater's!" Dean added.

Hermione opened her mouth to defend herself when suddenly another voice spoke up.

"That's what happens if you go against the enchantment on you, _gúþwine,_ you really should know better after a thousand years," the boyish voice said from out of no-where. Ronald, Dean, Seamus and even Hermione looked startled around the empty room.

"Oh, shut up, Sa'zu, and give me a pause," another voice exclaimed. This time the voice was darker and sounded more like an adult man than a child. "I'm tired of their whining and it's far easier to shut them up by giving them what they want instead to listen to their pleading over and over again."

"Idiotic piece of enchanted leather," was the answer to that. "If you really want to sort someone in the wrong house, sort me into Gryffindor or Hufflepuff!"

"And watch while you either drive the Gryffindors insane or the Hufflepuffs into suicide? No, I might be old but I'm not _that _old!"

The answer was a sigh.

"Ah, well," the first, boyish voice said. "It seems I have to be happy with being a Slytherin while driving some Gryffindors into mild insanity or suicide instead."

"Gryffindors don't do suicide, Sa'zu."

"Well, there's always a first time."

Ronald, Dean and Seamus meanwhile were looking around the still empty classroom with huge, frightened eyes.

"What are you planning, Sa'zu?" The darker voice asked concerned.

No answer.

"What are you planning, Sa'zu?!"

Still no answer.

"Sa'zár?!"

This time a low hissing noise was heard, then an evil sounding chuckle.

Ronald and the others had moved with the backs against the wall, their knees shaking.

"Who… who's there?" Ronald asked stuttering.

Two enormous, poisoned green eyes with slit pupils opened in the empty space in front of the door. Then a colossal mouth – just above the ground followed suit. It opened to a frightening grin, showing off sharp and pearly white teeth.

"You're worst nightmare," the boyish voice, which had been called 'Sa'zu', said. The lips of the mouth moved, following the words exactly. Then a long, red tongue slit out and licked the teeth in a clearly hungry gesture.

Ronald, Dean and Seamus screamed.

The next moment the eyes and mouth vanished and the three boys ran out the classroom as if the devil itself was hot on their trail.

A second later, low chuckles could be heard near the wall next to the door.

"Salazar! Those were first years!" the darker voice exclaimed horrified.

"Well, better they learn now that their actions have consequences, instead of later on when they're too old to learn," the boyish voice exclaimed. "Don't worry, _gúþwine_, a little fright won't harm them."

"Sometimes I wonder why we ever thought you'd make a good teacher," the darker voice said sighing.

"Well – I always knew I was trouble. It's not my fault that you needed a hundred years to find out the obvious."

And then Harry Potter blinked into view in front of Hermione.

"Miss Hermione!" he greeted her grinning. "How did you like my performance?"

And that was the day Hermione started to suspect that Harry Potter had a lot more secrets than she had ever been able to guess.

But then, maybe she was wrong and the only thing that made him mysterious were the insane sparkles of fire lurking behind his eyes.

sSsSsSs

The first time she saw Harry 'Slytherin' angry, was the first time she heard him call an adult 'child'.

That day, they were sitting in potions and while Hermione and Neville were doing exactly what had been written on the blackboard, Harry had brought back three extra ingredients from the ingredients cupboard and had started to stray from the potion they should brew just a few steps into the brewing.

"What are you doing?" Hermione hissed while watching Harry who just had entered some kind of sprouts in a normally absolute spout-free headache-relieve potion.

"Brewing," Harry answered unconcerned. Neville watched nervously but also obviously in awe when Harry's potion turned a deep shade of ocean blue instead of the light pink it should be.

"Those aren't the ingredients for the potion we should brew!" Hermione hissed.

Harry scoffed.

"Boring," he said. "I've no interest in brewing something worthy that's just wasted in the end after it has been graded."

"So you decided to endanger us all by brewing something different?" Hermione asked him nervously, her eyes never straying from his now hissing cauldron.

"Don't worry, it won't blow up," Harry said grinning. "And I'm experimenting. What else should I do here?"

"Gran said that you shouldn't experiment in potions," Neville stuttered nervously.

Harry just shrugged and then stirred in some chamomile in the normally chamomile-less potion. His potion turned a silvery-green and slowly but surely black swirls started to grace the surface. The potion hissed again and bubbled.

"Are you sure, it's safe?" Hermione asked nervously. She had never read about a potion that contained chamomile and those odd sprouts before.

"Sure, sure," Harry answered unconcerned. "Don't worry."

'_Don't worry'_ – that was an advice Hermione couldn't follow. She worried that class. She worried a lot. She was sure that Harry was just seconds away from blowing up his potion.

"Now the daffodils," she heard Harry murmur.

In that moment Snape reached their working table.

"Potter! What are you doing?" Snape growled.

Harry looked up, innocently.

"Brewing," he said.

Snape sneered at him, then, with a single wave of Snape's wand, Harry's cauldron was empty again.

"That will be a failing grade for today, Potter," Snape snapped. "Detention tonight at seven."

Harry stared at his empty cauldron.

Then he looked up at Snape.

Harry's face was empty of all emotions, but his eyes…

Hermione shuddered.

His eyes showed his fury. At least for a second, then his eyelids closed and when they opened again, Harry's eyes were as emotionless as the rest of his face.

But Hermione had seen his fury.

Hermione had seen the rage hidden behind the icy emerald eyes.

When Snape returned to the front of the class, Harry hissed wordlessly; then he started to rant.

The most of his rant consisted of furious, wordless hisses, but there were some words he uttered as well. "Potion destroying, spineless bastard… not seeing what's in front of his eyes… destroying a potion by an _evanesco_… irresponsible!... blinded, uncreative bat… would have been done with a better potion just a second later… biased, egoistic, want-to-be potions master… no idea what he's destroying and not even trying to see just because he hates me for some reason… I would commit suicide before stifling the creativity of children… irresponsible, irritating baby!"

sSsSsSs

Hermione wasn't sure what kind of potion Harry Potter had tried to brew that day, but just a few days later she found herself staring at a mirror, her eyes huge and disbelieving.

"You alright, Hermes?" Harry asked, while stepping behind her.

Hermione just stared at herself.

Her hair was chopped short.

Her skirt suddenly was trousers.

But the most horrible thing was the difference _in _the trousers.

_How, in hell, did she end up being a boy over night?!_

Then Harry's words caught up with her.

"Hermes?" she squeaked.

"Could be worse," Harry said shrugging. "I heard the Headmaster calling our Head of House 'Winifred'."

Hermione, pardon – _Hermes_ groaned.

"So you're telling me that today is the reverse to last Tuesday?" she – _he_ asked horrified.

"Seems like it," Harry said grinning. "And don't moan, Hermes. Just think about the other… new… boys of Gryffindor and of the rest of the houses. I heard Ludwig Brown screamed loud enough to even wake up Ronald Weasley and I saw Panasius Parkinson and Miloslav Bullstrode gawking at their mirrors after they were half way through with painting their faces. They look like crack-queens! Of course, there are some boys like Daniel Greengrass who take it in one stride, but then there are people like Cyril Trelawney. As far as I know he still wears his huge earrings and jewels."

"Harry!"

"Hey! I just wanted to show you that you're not alone!"

"I saw that I'm not alone! I was at breakfast, Harry!" Hermione said snorting. "And now stop making fun of us 'new' boys, _Sally_!"

Harry snorted.

"At least, whoever it was, was a movie-loving prankster. I would have hated to live a day as 'Harriet' or 'Henrietta' Potter! I don't think that those names would fit me, at all!"

Hermione – pardon, _Hermes_ scoffed.

"That's what you say!" she cried. "I have to live with _Hermes_!"

Harry laughed.

"At least it's just for today, Hermes!" he said. "Tomorrow I'll call you like usual, I promise."

"At least there's no repeat of the tutu-day," Hermione sighed. "Once was definitely enough. I've still nightmares about Mr. Filch in a tutu."

Harry just laughed at that – and suddenly Hermione wondered if Harry would have helped pranking the school if he would have had a little bit more grounding in magic.

That thought stopped her thinking process.

Harry was one of the best in their year, using magic.

"But he's still too inexperienced," she told herself. "There's no way he could have pulled pranks like that the very first day of school."

Could he?

The idea vanished when their discussion turned to other themes, but the thought would return to her, many, many months later.

sSsSsSs

"Still", Hermione contemplated, in a moment of clarity, just seconds before she would breathe her dying breath – at least what she considered her dying breath. "Harry has been a good friend, so far."

It was sad that she would have to lose this friendship so soon after she found it.

It was sad – and absolutely unfair.

Her heart was pounding fast and hard.

She pressed her eyes together, unwilling to see the troll with its club raised above its head, ready to strike her any moment.

Then she could feel the wind swishing down at her and she screamed.

The china of the sink shattered with an earsplitting crack.

Broken bits of china sailed through the air, one of them hitting her cheek, leaving it bleeding.

And Hermione wished.

She wished with all her heart that this Hallowe'en wouldn't be her last.

She didn't want to die in a school toilet!

And she definitely didn't want to die in a school toilet in her first year after she had been crying in there because of a stupid remark of Ronald Bloody Weasley!

"Miss Hermione," a voice suddenly said. "The troll's gone now. You can open your eyes again."

It took a moment to recognize the voice of Harry Potter and it took another moment to open her eyes so that she could see through two tiny slits.

There was no troll in sight.

She opened them further.

Still no troll.

"What –" She started to say; then her eyes fell on the troll. It was at the other side of the room, clad in a yellow dress with pink polka dots, step-dancing away as if it wanted to compete for dance school.

Hermione's eyes widened impossible wide.

"What did you do?" she asked with a hysteric edge in her voice.

Harry Potter shrugged innocently.

"He broke rule number twenty-seven in dealing with threats while at school," another, deep voice answered out of no-where.

"Oh, shut up, _gúþwine_!" Harry frowned. "That wasn't a rule. R'ena herself said that I should take it as a suggestion!"

"R'ena was in the library when you asked her. You and I know that everything she says concerning a different topic than what she's reading about has to be taken with a grain… no, with a mountain of salt!" The darker voice grumbled.

"There's no rule about that!" Harry said grinning. "So I did nothing wrong!"

"Oh! Quit acting like a child, Sa'zu!"

"Harry?" Hermione asked hesitatingly.

Harry turned to her and grinned.

"Don't mind the chatter of this old piece of leather," he said while tipping against his red and green striped cap. "Someone enchanted my hat some weeks ago and now it doesn't stop babbling."

"I'm _not _babbling!" The hat exclaimed furiously.

"Shut up, _gúþwine, _or I'll bring you back in the Chamber for 'vacation'."

For a moment it looked as if the hat shuddered.

Then it sighed.

"Alright, alright," it said. "I'm quiet! And now remove that creature from the school before the teachers find it!"

In that moment the teachers stormed in the bathroom and stopped dead just a step after the door. All of them stared at the dancing troll.

"Too late, _gúþwine,_" Harry said amused. "Do you think they will let me keep it if I ask nicely?"

Hermione stared at her friend as if he had lost his mind.

The hat just groaned.

"Only you could ask such a question, Sa'zár!"

**sSs**

xXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxSortingxXxHatxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXx

**sSs**

_**Explanation:**_

_Hit is ārweorþ þē tō mētenne, mīn hlǣfdīgan_ \- It is an honour to meet you, my lady

_Forgief mē, mīn hlǣfdīgan_ \- forgive me, my lady

_Hit is ārweorþ þē tō mētenne, mīn hearra_ \- It is an honour to meet you, my lord

_gúþwine - old English for 'Comrade in war'_

**sSs**

_So, that's it for today._

_**About Salazar's name:**_

_Godric shortened Salazar's name to 'Sa'zár' in the past, but since he normally slurs it a bit, it changed to 'Sa'zu' over time. Of course, Salazar is still 'Salazar' if Godric is really annoyed with him (and if no one can hear him)._

_Salazar's full name is 'Sszalazsar Talieszsin Haraldr Iacomusz Sslytherin'. I decided that since Parseltongue has a lot of hisses, there should be different kind of 's' in Salazar's original name._

**sSs**

_**About Ron:**__ No, I'm not planning to bash him. I just think that he would have had a problem with one of the Gryffindors hanging out with a Slytherin – and I think that he has (beginning of first year!) a problem with a showing-off, know-it-all Hermione. He reacted like that in canon as well (Hallowe'en!) and he _is _biased against Slytherin in canon, after all._

_I hope you understand._

_Ebenbild_


	7. Chapter 7

_**Disclaimer:**__ HP does not belong to me, just the idea I used on the characters… all recognizable things are Rowlings_

_**Information:**__ AU-Sorting, takes place in HP1. Reincarnation-fic!_

_To all that send me ideas for pranks: __**THANK YOU VERY MUCH!**_

xXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxSortingxXxHatxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXx

**sSs**

**WHY TO SORT A STUDENT IS A HORRIBLE JOB**

**A STUDENT'S CASE – THE CONTINUATION**

**sSs**

"You know, he confuses me totally! Since the day I met him, he was always the odd one out – and the absolutely stunning part about is not that he is the odd one out, but that he doesn't seem to mind it at all!"

The answer was a snort.

"And I thought you weren't better than him, Neville."

Neville rolled his eyes.

"I at least mind that I'm the outcast of Gryffindor. He doesn't seem to notice that everyone is gawking at him behind his back!"

"Oh, he notices. He just doesn't care. But then, I think he has long since given up on being even the tiniest bit of normal."

"So you think he has resigned himself because of his status as 'The-Boy-Who-Lived'?" Neville asked.

Pearly laughter echoed through the hallway at that remark.

"Nah, that has nothing to do with him being unable to die after being hit with the killing curse. That stunt back then was absolutely expected considering who he is –"

"Expected like the troll he stopped earlier?"

This time his opponent snorted.

"That was him breaking the rules again. Hopefully he will be reined in by Godric for not banishing it instantly."

"Godric?!" Neville stared at the other. "What do you mean 'Godric'?!"

The answer was another snort.

"Honestly, Neville, is Godric's name out of my mouth truly so hard to believe?"

"No! Just the 'rein in' part together with it – I mean, I thought… I thought he was maybe… _dead_?!" Neville said.

"He's as dead as Harry Potter is sane," was the answer.

That at least settled Neville's doubts about the sanity of his first living friend. Now he just had to find out if it was contagious. _Great!_

sSsSsSs

Neville had always been a particular shy child. In addition to that he was a clumsy child as well. No wonder, he had quite a hard time to make friends.

At the beginning of his first year at Hogwarts, he had no expectations to ever gain a friend at all. He had long since learned that the other children found him too awkward, too shy and too afraid to break the rules.

So when he met Harry Potter, it was definitely something different.

The first time he gained a glimpse of the odd boy who was Harry Potter, was on the train. At that time, they didn't formally meet, or anything, but Neville met the boy nonetheless… somehow.

Neville still had no idea why the boy had decided to sleep in the roof racks of the train.

At that time, Neville had searched for an empty compartment in the Hogwarts Express. He had opened the door of a compartment that looked to be empty, had dragged his luggage in and then had been about to lift his trunk up into the roof rack – just to stop mid-swing because the roof rack was already occupied – by a boy.

The sleeping boy had no luggage with him that Neville could see. He was wearing his school uniform already and his black, untidy hair was ruffled in sleep. One of the boy's hands was lying beneath the boy's head, the other one on top of his chest.

It took a moment for Neville to see the thin dagger in it that was half-hidden beneath the palm of the sleeping boy. For any muggle-raised child, the dagger in the other boy's hand would have simply been a knife that was sharpened on both sides. For Neville, a wizard raised, the dagger symbolized something else.

Neville couldn't see all of it, but he could see some of the etchings on the blade and, when Neville put his trunk on the floor and stepped on it, also some of the engraving of the hilt. The blade was made of Obsidian. The hilt was silver with different stones set in it. Neville didn't know a lot about stones, but he recognized the single moonstone that was set between hilt and blade, barely seeable between the fingers of the boy.

"Moonstone to clear your mind," Neville said. "A dream catcher and shield to the dark side."

There weren't a lot of blades that were made of Obsidian.

There were even less that combined Obsidian, moonstone and silver.

Neville had always thought that daggers like the one in the boy's hand were long since lost in time.

"Obsidian to sharpen the mind," Neville whispered to himself. "A mirror to your dark side."

The etchings on the blade were stylized flowers and powerful runes. Every etched bouquet had its own meaning.

Lily, hawthorn and petunia – "Have faith! Have hope! Never quail!"

Neville might have just a basic knowledge about stones – but he definitely knew his flowers!

Scilla – "Forgive me my mistakes!"

Neville couldn't see a lot of the hilt, but he saw the snake head instead of the pommel. The snake's eyes were emeralds. It was baring its silver teeth and a ruby was set instead of the tongue.

"Silver to strengthen your magic," Neville concluded. "A way to cleanse yourself and everything else from evil."

Neville might have grown up in a light family, but even he recognized the use of that dagger.

It was a ritual dagger, solely used for one kind of magic: magic to shield, to judge and to try for forgiveness.

"Well done," Neville fell from his trunk, when the boy suddenly opened his eyes and spoke. "It seems that not all has been lost about the old ways."

Neville frowned.

"It was just some meaning of stones and plants," he said. "Nothing too special."

The other boy snorted and then grinned and turned his dagger to show Neville the other side of the blade.

Neville recognized the plants instantly. "Parsley and wormwood," he said out loud, this time around. "Another plea for forgiveness. Er… for…"

The boy just snorted. "It means roughly 'Forgive me my absence!'," he said. "Do you know the rest as well?"

"Myrtle, valerian and tea rose," Neville said instantly. "Something like "Remember, I will forever protect you!' or some such."

The boy grinned.

"Well done, indeed," he said and then hopped down from the luggage rack. Neville just stared at the boy, still sitting on the floor himself.

"I would stand up, if I were you," the boy said at that moment. "The floor is quite uncomfortable to sleep on. If I were you, I would use the rack. You can have my place, if you want. I was anyway about to ascend the train."

Neville blinked.

"Don't you mean 'board the train'?" he asked, then frowned and shook his head. "You've already boarded it."

"That's the reason why I said 'ascend'," was the answer. "I want to ascend the train, like 'going on its roof top' not board something I'm already on. Do you want to come as well?"

Neville looked out of the window and the landscape that had started to fly by after the train had started to move.

"Er… no… thank you," Neville finally replied rattled. "I think… I think I'll begin with climbing the roof rack for the start."

The other boy blinked at him in surprise, then he shrugged.

"Alright, seems logical," he said. "Do you need some help with shrinking your luggage?"

"You can do that already?"

The answer was a laugh.

"As long as I believe I can do it, I can," the boy answered and a second later Neville's trunk was as big as a matchbox. Neville stared at it. There had been no wand, no hand-movement, nothing. Instead it had been a regular sized trunk one second, and the next a matchbox sized one.

"Don't worry. Just keep it up there when we reach the village. It'll resize in time for the elves who fetch the luggage," the boy said, winked and then left. It took another minute until Neville understood what his brain had tried to tell him for at least two minutes.

The boy's hands had suddenly been empty.

The dagger was gone. It seems to have ended in smoke.

Another minute later he remembered that he had forgone manners and had forgotten to introduce himself.

"And I thought I would be the odd one out!" Neville commended, then he stepped on the seat and climbed in the roof rack.

At least the boy had been right. The roof rack was more comfortable than the floor.

Neville stayed there until Trevor decided to make an early escape. Then he met Hermione Granger for the first time.

sSsSsSs

The second time he met the boy, had been in potions. He had sat down near the other outcast of Gryffindor, one Hermione Granger – just near her. He had not actually enough courage to sit down right next to her, but a chair between them should be near enough for now.

Neville had been sure that potions would be as horrible as every other class he had since he came to Hogwarts. Up until now, every classmate of his had at least been able to produce some sparks with their wands – Neville instead still felt like handling raw fish. His wand felt slimy, sluggish and all in all horrible.

And now he had potions.

Neville hated slimy things.

And dead things…

And dried up plants...

And fire…

Neville somehow doubted he would be any better in potions. He might even do worse…

At least that had been his concern until the boy from the train showed up again and started to occupy the chair between Neville and the other outcast of Gryffindor. The boy obviously knew the Ravenclaw-ish Gryffindor, because he just smiled at her and then greeted her in a very odd language. Neville at least had never heard it before and judging from the girl's reaction, she was startled as well – if she was startled because of the language, or the greeting, Neville was unable to tell.

Then he turned to Neville who gawked at him with wide eyes.

"Hit is ārweorþ þē tō mētenne, mīn hearra," he said. "I am Salazar Taliesin Haraldr Iacomus Slytherin. May I inquire your name?"

What was that language, by Merlin? Was it in the end something else Neville should have known before entering Hogwarts? In the end, Neville did the only thing he could as an answer. He gaped.

"Er… I'm Neville Longbottom," he finally whispered; then he stopped confused. "Are… how… how can you be a Slytherin by name?"

The answer was a smile.

"I decided to change my name after the hundredth time I was called 'Slytherin' to my face," Salazar said. "I guessed that if three thirds of the school wanted to call me 'Slytherin', there was no reason to listen to 'Harry Potter' anymore. Don't you think so, too?"

"Don't answer that, Neville," Hermione advised him before he could even think of a reply. "I think he wants to confuse us."

And that was the day, Neville met Harry Potter the second time.

sSsSsSs

It wasn't Harry Potter, who was Neville's first friend in Hogwarts.

Neville's first was actually not human – and an absolutely accident.

It was in his first week, and Neville had again forgotten the password to the Gryffindor dorm. Since he had been waiting in front of the dorm room for quite some time and nobody had come, he finally had decided to go somewhere else.

Maybe the library or some such since it wasn't after curfew, yet.

To Neville's misfortune, when he rounded a corner, Peeves was just the hallway down, exchanging the helmets of the suits of armour with watermelons.

"Maybe I should try another way," Neville mumbled to himself. He had heard about Peeves and his idea of fun from the Prefect Percy Weasley and he had no desire to experience it.

So he turned around – and ran straight into Malfoy and his cronies. And Malfoy, always the stuck up pureblood he was, decided to test his spells on Neville.

The first two, thankfully, missed.

So Neville did the only thing he could think of. He turned around and ran, pleading with Merlin that Peeves would no decide to join the fun.

Malfoy laughed.

"Do you really think you can ran away, squib?" he cried and then followed, still aiming spells at Neville.

Then, Neville reached the stairs.

The stairs had just started to move. So Neville scraped together his courage and jumped.

His feet hit the bottom of the moving stairs. His right hand grabbed the banister.

_Take that, Malfoy!_

And Neville stumbled hurriedly up the stairs to safety.

And maybe, maybe he would have gotten to safety – if Malfoy hadn't aimed a well-placed body-bind on his back and hit.

As it was, Neville's legs and arms suddenly snapped together and he lost his footing.

Like in slow motion, Neville saw himself fall.

Right from the stairs in the abyss below.

He would end up squashed somewhere on the floor below the stairs.

But before his horrible vision could turn true, an icy hand on his shoulder stopped his fall and straightened him up again, so that he was standing on the stairs.

"Honestly, does this tiny idiot have any idea of the danger his spells cause?" Neville could hear a high pitched voice mumble right next to his ear.

Then the voice said, louder this time around: "Watermelons! Attack!"

And Neville, still in a body-bind could see Malfoy, thanks to the turning stairs, running away while dodging watermelons that chased him and his cronies mercilessly. The more suits of armour Malfoy passed, the more watermelons started to follow while trying to hit him.

"That should occupy that little bully for a while," the same high pitched voice commented next to Neville's ear.

Then Neville was turned around carefully so that he didn't lose his footing again and could look at his rescuer.

His rescuer wore a frock coat and a bowler.

His rescuer was also pearly white and grinning madly.

And if Neville would have been able to say something right now, he wasn't sure, if he would have had the courage to exclaim more than "Peeves!"

"Look at you! You look like a juicy stripling. I wonder if you taste good," the poltergeist exclaimed while showing his teeth.

Neville shuddered as far as he could, still bound in the body-bind and the poltergeist laughed.

"Oh, stripling! Peevesie doesn't eat saplings like you for dinner! Bullies instead…," the grin turned feral and Neville shuddered again.

The answer was a pearly laugh. Not the mad cackling that Neville had heard the poltergeist use before, but true, heartfelt laughter.

"Now, let's see what to do about you, stripling," the poltergeist said then and pulled out a wand from his sleeve. Neville's eyes widened, but the poltergeist just grinned and flicked its wand. The body-bind vanished and Neville felt himself relax instantly.

"Thank you," he said, before curiousity got the better of him. "Er… weren't you in colour just minutes ago? And didn't you wear something else?"

The answer was mad cackle and suddenly the poltergeist bled into colour, his clothes turning loud and outlandish.

"Do you like Peevesie better now?" the poltergeist cackled, his wickedly slanted, orange eyes twinkling madly.

"Er… I didn't mind the other appearance," Neville finally decided to say. "It's your decision how you look."

The answer was again mad cackle.

"Oh!" the poltergeist exclaimed. "Peevesie likes the sapling! So well mannered! So shy!"

Neville could feel his cheeks reddening.

Then the poltergeist's clothes changed again to the frock coat and the bowler hat and he turned pearly.

"Peevesie is hiding from the other ghosts," Peeves whispered conspiratorial. "They all look for a loud and coloured spectre when looking for Peevesie. They won't see him if he looks like them!"

At least, Neville was sure that the poltergeist got that one right.

"Peevesie also doesn't help straplings," the poltergeist continued. "Peevesie is a nuisance. He doesn't help anybody."

"Oh, alright," Neville said blinking surprised. "Then why did you help me?"

The answer was a feral grin.

"Because Salazar doesn't like bullying. No, he doesn't, not at all!" Peeves answered. "And Peevesie aims to be a good replacement for him! Yes, he does, totally!"

"Er… alright," Neville said again, not too sure if he should tell the poltergeist that he was an awful replacement for a biased, stick-up pureblood like Salazar Slytherin himself.

But before he could actually make up his mind, a loud exclamation of "Peeves!" could be heard some corridors away.

Peeves cackled again and bled into colour as well as into his loud and outlandish clothing.

"Seems as if those bullies ran to Edward for help," he whispered conspiratorial. "He has always been a bit blind when it came to Slytherin house."

"Edward?" Neville repeated confused.

"Prince Edward Lovegood-Ravenwood, better known as 'The Baron' or 'The Bloody Baron'," Peeves answered grinning. "And now I have to run. Peevesie respects Edward after all! See you again, my little strapling!"

Then he was off, flying down the next hall while cackling madly.

And that was the day, Neville's odd friendship with Peeves started.

sSsSsSs

Flying lesson had also been an experience for Neville.

Neville never had liked heights and being forced to sit on a wooden stick high up in the air, sounded awful to his ears. Unfortunately his grandmother insisted – after all, his father had loved to fly and had been a beater on the Quiddich team since third year. But then, his father hadn't been thrown out of the window by Uncle Algie when he was still a mere child.

Anyway, flying sounded awful to Neville.

He was nothing but a bundle of nerves.

Of course, it didn't help that, when he kicked off, he lost control of his broom instantly. That his teacher was just shouting at him to return to earth instantly didn't help at all as well.

And maybe, maybe Neville would have ended up hurt that day – maybe with a broken bone or two or some severe injury – if it hadn't been for Salazar Taliesin Haraldr Iacomus Slytherin, better known as Harry Potter. Or at least, Neville guessed, that it was him that did it somehow.

Fact was, that the voice Neville could hear in the wind, sounded awfully like the other boy's.

"Ward-scheme thirty-eight, order: Salazar's prank-war number one hundred forty-two. Target: Longbottom, Gryffindor…"

Neville's broom soared up near one of the walls of the castle, while Neville still held on for fear of his life.

"Activation: now!"

The next moment Neville was swallowed by Hogwarts castle itself. A giant mouth with stone-teeth had snapped out of the wall right beside Neville and ate him. Neville's broom was crushed by the stones that suddenly surrounded him. Then he slid down a long winding tube of stones in absolute darkness.

Neville emerged in high speed right behind the teacher's table in the Great Hall. Like a ping-pong ball he sailed through the air in a curve and then bounced of the opposite wall, right above the entrance door. The wall felt like a feather bed that bounced him right back down on the floor that also gave Neville a soft and secured landing by growing a true feather bed just in time for his landing. The bed was also painted red and white like a target. Neville hit bull's eye.

He blinked and stared at the ceiling of the Great Hall in confusion. Right over the ceiling was written in green colour: "Bull's eye. 286:167 for Slytherin!"

"I guess I don't want to know," Neville decided when green and silver glitter started to rain down upon him. "I really don't want to know!"

At least he wasn't hurt.

And that particular stunt – not his landing in the Great Hall but being eaten by the castle in the first place – also changed another thing: Neville was suddenly the hero of Gryffindor. Especially the Weasley-twins worshipped him – even after he told them that he hadn't done anything at all. Nobody believed him anyway.

Even the teachers had a hard time believing him. Albus Dumbledore called him to his office the next day. The teacher was still clad in his tutu – it was tutu-day, after all – so Neville had a hard time deciding if he should laugh or be afraid of the Headmaster.

"Can you tell me anything, anything at all about your sudden… vanishing and appearing act yesterday?" the Headmaster asked him.

Neville scratched his head nervously.

"Er… I scored for Slytherin?" he finally hesitatingly offered.

The headmaster blinked.

"Excuse me?" he asked confused and Neville blushed.

"Nothing, Professor," he said. After that he refused to say anything else until he was let go.

So Neville did that one thing he had wanted to do since yesterday.

He tracked down Salazar Potter – or Harry Potter, like everybody else called him. Neville just thought that if the boy wanted to be called 'Salazar', then Neville would call him 'Salazar'. Each his own preference, after all.

He found the boy in the library, following Hermione Granger while the girl searched for who-knows-what. Both were wearing tutus. Hermione's was yellow with little roses adorning its collar, Salazar's was green-red-blue-yellow striped with a silver snake winding around his hip.

While Hermione was definitely distracted, Salazar was talking about… exchanging the wormwood with hellebore in a potion that, Neville was sure, they wouldn't brew until the end of next year?! What by Merlin was that boy planning? As if his experiments in potion class weren't enough already to deal with!

"Er… Salazar… may I speak with you for a moment?" Neville finally asked. Hermione looked up at that. "His name is Harry, Neville," she said and rolled her eyes. "You don't have to call him 'Salazar' – even if he introduced himself as such."

The answer was a smile from the other boy and a pat on her head.

"But it's not nice to use another name as the one that the person gave to you when they introduced themselves, Miss Hermione," he said grinning. "And I think 'Salazar' sound so much neater than 'Harry'!"

Neville decided to stay out of that particular discussion.

"Er… yes, well… May I speak to you?"

"Sure, Heir Longbottom," the other boy replied and turned to follow him.

Neville blinked. He had been addressed as 'Heir Longbottom' before – from those stuck-up older purebloods his grandmother preferred to meet with, but never from one of the younger generation and definitively never from one of his peers!

"Er… Neville is fine," he finally said. The answer was a grin, but also a short incline of the other ones head – a hidden bow towards Neville.

"As you wish, mīn hearra," he said. "It will be my pleasure. You may call me Sa'zár or Sa'zu if you wish it."

"Er… thank you, Sa'zu," Neville replied, feeling oddly like being stuck in one of his grandmother's tea-parties – stiff manners and all.

Finally he decided to ignore it and instead left the library with Salazar following. They went to the nearest abandoned classroom and Neville closed the door behind the other boy.

The boy raised an eyebrow at that precaution, but he didn't comment on it.

"You wished to talk to me, mīn hearra?" he said instead.

"Yeah," Neville answered nervously while looking at the floor. Then he scraped together his courage and looked up in those unearthly green eyes that adorned the other ones face. "I wanted to thank you, Sa'zu."

The other raised an eyebrow.

"Whatever for, mīn hearra?" he asked.

"For my rescue when I lost control of my broom," Neville replied. "I don't know how you did it, but I know it was you. I heard your voice just before I was swallowed by the castle… and I scored for Slytherin!"

After hearing his second exclamation, Salazar grinned.

"That you did, mīn hearra," he said amused. "And a bull's eye nonetheless!"

"Er… yeah… that one," Neville said blushing. "Anyway, thank you. I'm in your debt."

Neville decided to add the last bit after seeing Salazar's stiff manners. He knew that his grandmother would have insisted on that part if someone of her friends would have rescued Neville.

The smile of the other boy vanished.

"It was the deed of a protector of Hogwarts. You needn't to acknowledge any debt. I am honoured, that you wish to do so, but your sincere thanks is more than enough," Salazar finally replied.

"Protector?" Neville asked surprised. The other boy just crooked his head.

"Maybe I'll tell you some day," he said, then he grinned again. "But before I do, you will have to beat Miss Hermione in potions."

Neville groaned.

"I will never beat anyone in potions!" he replied.

"Then maybe you should return with me to the library and help me to distract Miss Hermione. She's far too emerged in her plight of perfect scores!"

For a moment, Neville hesitated, then he thought of Gryffindor tower and about the fact, that he had forgotten the password again.

"I might as well," he said.

He had a fun afternoon and maybe, so he guessed, his first human friend in Salazar Potter.

sSsSsSs

Peeves was waiting outside the common room, the day after, wearing frock coat and bowler.

"I heard you managed to be swallowed by the castle?" the pearly poltergeist said grinning. "Tell me more!"

And Neville did, because Peeves didn't judge. And Peeves would believe him, unlike the most of the Gryffindors, when he said he didn't do it.

"You heard a voice activating the trap?" Peeves asked interested while guiding Neville in an abandoned classroom.

Neville nodded.

"It sounded like the voice of… Salazar… Potter," he finally decided to say. "He all but acknowledged that it was him."

Peeves blinked at him in surprise.

"Salazar?" the poltergeist asked and Neville shrugged.

"He was the one who introduced himself as Salazar Talie-whatever Slytherin, even if his true name is Harry Potter," he defended himself. "If he wants to be called Salazar, who I am to stop him?"

The answer was a cackle.

"Indeed, strapling! Indeed!" the poltergeist crowed. "Tell me more about him!"

So Neville did.

He didn't know a lot about Salazar, but everything he knew, he shared.

"He also said that my rescue was the deed of a protector of Hogwarts," Neville finally added. "Do you know, what he meant?"

Peeves grinned madly.

"Of course I know, sapling!" the poltergeist exclaimed. "Why wouldn't I?"

So Neville looked at Peeves expectably.

Peeves just whistled.

"You're not about to tell me, aren't you?" Neville finally asked dejectedly.

Peeves just grinned.

"Did you ask me something, stripling?" the poltergeist crowed.

"Er…" for a moment, Neville hesitated, then he shrugged and asked. "What is a protector of Hogwarts?"

The answer was a cackle.

"Ah, young friend! What a delightful question!" the poltergeist cackled and floated out of the room. Neville followed him hurriedly.

Peeves meanwhile plucked a portrait from one of the walls. The occupant, an old man, glared at the spectre.

"Well," Peeves said. "This, for example, is one of the protectors of Hogwarts." Then the poltergeist stuck its tongue out at the portrait. "Of course, he is a minor one, just like the suits of armour and the gargoyles," and with that he returned the portrait back to the wall – upside-down and not caring about the portraits disagreement.

Neville rolled his eyes – long since immune to Peeves antics – and turned the portrait so that it was right again. That gained him another round of cursing from the occupant of said portrait.

"The ghosts are also protectors of Hogwarts – if you know how to take them," the poltergeist meanwhile continued. "The same goes for the traps and ward-schemes – one of them the one that rescued you. If you know how to activate them, you mostly can activate them."

"So… if I repeat the words I heard when I was eaten by the castle, I can activate the trap?" Neville asked interested. It would be awfully useful if Malfoy cornered him again.

"Normally, yes," the poltergeist said. "But the trap that was activated was a ward-scheme. You have to be keyed into the ward-scheme to use it."

Neville pouted. Then he gawked.

"Then how did he –"

"Simple. Your friend is keyed into the wards," Peeves said and painted a yellow smiley on the shield of the armour they passed. Neville just rolled his eyes again.

"Red or green?" Peeves asked in that moment.

"Blue," Neville answered, sticking out his tongue at the spectre. The poltergeist nodded gravely.

"Good choice. Rowena would hate it to be forgotten," Peeves said and painted the next shield with a blue and bonze smiley.

Neville buried his head in his hands. "I can't believe you make me an accomplice in your pranks!"

Peeves just shrugged. "If you take up that friendship with Potty, you'll get used to it," he said.

"You truly think that Salazar is into pranks?" Neville stared at his friends with doubt in his eyes. Peeves grinned.

"Peevesie has been trying to replace Salazar for a thousand years. Peevesie knows what Salazar will and won't do!"

"I bet Salazar Slytherin despaired with you when he was still alive," Neville mumbled.

Peeves nodded gravely.

"Yes he did," the poltergeist said. "And how he did! All the rules! All the 'don't do that ever again'! Sometimes I feared he would start to cry just because of me!"

Neville snorted while he watched the poltergeist who painted a red and gold smiley on the next armour before moving on to a green and silver one.

"I bet you didn't listen to any rules he gave you," he said.

The poltergeist stopped mid-smiley and turned to look at Neville with a wicked grin.

"It was I that stated the rules and he who broke them," at that, Neville nearly sat down gawking.

"You're joking!"

"Nope!" was the cheerful reply, then Peeves returned to painting smileys on the armours.

"But…!"

"I told you I decided to be a good replacement for Salazar," the poltergeist said charmingly. "Not that anybody believed me at that time. Godric and Rowena just told me to 'stay with the things I knew how to do, like cooking, or baking, or gardening'. Well, you see what good their words did. I bet they're regretting them now." Then a malicious smile started to grace the poltergeist's face.

"That reminds me," he said. "I have to find Mrs. Norris. It's high time she gets stuck in an armour again. I haven't done that one in months!"

Neville decided it was high time to flee before his friend found the damn cat. If he didn't, well, he definitely wouldn't like the consequences.

"Er… I guess I see you around," he said and turned. "I… I still have an essay to write… yes, an essay for potions!"

The poltergeist just cackled and Neville fled. Anyway, he had enough surprises for the day.

sSsSsSs

Over the next weeks, Neville's odd friendship with Salazar Potter started to grow. The other boy often roped him into studying with him or into the odd walk around the castle or the grounds. There was never anything mentioned about pranks – even if the pranks in the castle continued on while the teachers were still clueless how to remove the curse on the Great Hall or their classroom. Neville even watched when a foreign man came to the castle to look at the pranks as a favour to the headmaster. He left with a helpless shrug.

And then was Hallowe'en.

Neville himself wasn't there for the troll-incident – but he definitely was there for the aftermath. Well, to be truthful, he also was there for the troll-incident itself. Actually, he even reached the bathroom in time with Salazar – but before he could react to the troll, Salazar had grabbed him and stuffed him into one of the suits of armour on the other side of the corridor.

"Stay there," the other boy said. His voice was cold and his eyes hard. "You have no chance against a troll and I have no time to look after another child."

And with that Salazar turned, strode into the bathroom and fired a hex at the troll without even speaking a word.

The troll stumbled.

The next moment another hex hit it – and suddenly, to Neville's utter astonishment, it started to tap-dance. Then the voice of Hermione Granger filled the air.

"What did you do?" she asked hysterically.

Salazar just shrugged innocently.

"He broke rule number twenty-seven in dealing with threats while at school," another, deep voice answered out of no-where.

And then Salazar and his hat got into an argument of sorts – at least Salazar resorted to threats: "Shut up, _gúþwine, _or I'll bring you back in the Chamber for 'vacation'."

For a moment there was silence, then Neville heard a sigh.

"Alright, alright," the voice of the hat said. "I'm quiet! And now remove that creature from the school before the teachers find it!"

In that moment the teachers stormed around the next corner and in the bathroom – just to stop dead just a step after the door. All of them obviously stared at the dancing troll.

"Too late, _gúþwine,_" Neville heard his friend's amused exclamation. "Do you think they will let me keep it if I ask nicely?"

The answer this time came from McGonagall.

"Mr. Potter!" she exclaimed and Neville was sure that the hat said also something, that Neville regretfully couldn't hear thanks to the exclamations of the rest of the teachers.

"Detention, Mr. Potter!" Snape sneered.

"H…how c...can you e…even th…think a…about some… something like th…that, M…Mr. Potter!" Quirrell added in that moment.

"Why not?" Salazar asked in that moment. "It's tap-dancing after all! Nobody ever saw a troll tap-dancing until now – so why shouldn't I want to keep it?"

"Be that as it may, Mr. Potter!" McGonagall said in that moment. "What you did was reckless! You could have been killed!"

"By a tap-dancing troll?" Salazar asked incredulously.

McGonagall just looked at the troll flustered.

"Well, you didn't know that it would tap-dance when you got here so –"

"Do you know who cast the spell on the troll that forces it to perform in such ways, Mr. Potter?" Snape asked in that moment.

"Er… no… no idea. Is the spell dangerous? Will it break soon? Or is it maybe contagious?" Salazar answered with such a sincere and fearful voice that Neville nearly choked on his muffled laughter. If Neville didn't know who did it, he wouldn't have suspected Salazar at all after that innocent exclamation.

"We will see, Mr. Potter. Now tell me why you're here in the first place," McGonagall said, still eying the troll nervously.

Salazar shrugged.

"I was searching for Hermione. I heard that Ronald Weasley said some things that hurt her at the feast, so I left it in search for her – she's my friend, after all. I didn't expect to find a tap-dancing troll with her in the bathroom!" he said sincerely and Neville wondered if it was the truth. It even could be, but then, Salazar often missed meals in the Great Hall or vanished for hours without anybody knowing where he went. Even the Gryffindors knew about those vanishing acts – and that said a lot about them, since news between Slytherin and Gryffindor didn't travel fast.

"Very well, Mr. Potter," McGonagall said sighing. "Fifteen points from Slytherin for hurrying into danger. I also promise that I will talk to Mr. Weasley. And now, hurry along back to your dorm."

Then she turned to Hermione.

"Are you hurt, Miss Granger?" Neville guessed that Hermione had shaken her head, because McGonagall continued instantly. "Then please return to your dorm as well."

And then Hermione and Salazar emerged from the bathroom.

Salazar instantly returned to the armour Neville was trapped into – Neville had no idea how Salazar had accomplished that feat – and stuck out his hand. The next thing Neville knew was him landing on hands and knees in front of the suit he had been trapped into.

"I guess you still need to learn how to emerge from them gracefully," Salazar commented and helped him up. "Well, come on, children! Let's get you back to your dorm!"

"Er… Salazar – you're not older than us," Hermione said. Salazar just grinned.

"In body maybe – but in mental age, there are ages between us!" then he stuck his nose up in the air. Neville snorted.

"I can see that," he said and Salazar grinned.

"That reminds me!" he crowed and twirled once. "Twenty points to Slytherin for getting a troll to tap-dance!"

"Really, Sa'zu? You're giving yourself points for a tap-dancing troll?" the hat exclaimed at that.

"Well, did you ever hear about someone who got through the skin of a troll and got it to tap-dance?"

For a moment, there was silence. Then the hat sighed.

"Point taken," it said. "I guess the points are valid."

"Thought as much," Salazar said grinning and twirled again. "I guess, I also should say: ten points to Gryffindor for surviving a troll as a first year –"

"Definitely right, that one," the hat said gravely.

"And another ten for listening to me and staying put until the danger was… stuck tap-dancing," Salazar added.

Hermione snorted.

"You can't give or take points, Harry," she said. "You're a student!"

Salazar just grinned and twirled again.

"Don't worry, Miss Hermione. I normally don't give or take points. But this time it had to be done. Those teachers had no idea how hard it was to get that spell to go through, after all!"

Hermione rolled her eyes and Neville stifled another laughter.

"I bet they don't," he said – and then their discussion turned to more mundane things until they reached the entrance to Gryffindor tower.

"Dragon's breath," Salazar said. Then he grinned. "Well, I leave you to it! See ya!" And the next thing Neville knew was that Salazar rounded the corner and was out of sight.

"But… how could he lead us here?" Hermione said flustered, looking at the portrait of the Fat Lady. "He shouldn't have known where Gryffindor tower is located! And he definitely shouldn't know our password!"

Neville just shrugged and entered the common room. He had enough mystery and adventure for one day without trying to puzzle out Salazar's knowledge about Gryffindor tower.

sSsSsSs

And that brought Neville back to his opponent – one poltergeist who was just about to unscrew one of the candelabras on the walls.

"Why aren't you even shocked by what I told you? I mean – even if you say that's typical Salazar, that can't be truly normal!" he cried.

"Like I said. We're talking about Salazar – that should tell you everything," the poltergeist answered shrugging while stuffing a banana in each hole of the now candle-empty and loosened candelabra. Neville wondered how the bananas even fit, but then, Peeves had a wand and could obviously do magic.

"And your comment about Godric?" Neville asked.

The poltergeist shrugged.

"Godric is Godric. I bet he's been roped into that whole mess by Salazar like always. Those two can't truly live without each other, I say. Of course, Godric denies everything, but that's Godric for you," the poltergeist said.

"That's not an answer to my question," Neville said while he followed his friend to the next candelabra. "And Salazar isn't the same Salazar you met, Peeves. He just calls himself Salazar because everyone hisses at his back 'Slytherin'."

The poltergeist snorted.

"That's what he told you? Really? And you believed it?" the spectre said incredulously.

Neville rolled his eyes.

"Sure, you're right. They're one and the same. Salazar Slytherin just decided to wake up from the dead one day and play Harry Potter. Definitely believable," he said sarcastically.

"Thought so," was Peeves only reply. "Mystery solved. And now help me with that candelabra."

Neville snorted.

"Forget it, Peeves," he said. "I'll go to the library and see if Salazar's in. I'm definitely not getting roped into your schemes!"

Peeves grinned.

"Tell him Peevesie said hello and he better hasn't cursed the infirmary or I show him why I'm not a ghost but a poltergeist for more than five hundred years," the spectre said. "Oh… and tell him I want some biscuits. He knows, which one. I never got them right after he left."

Neville just rolled his eyes.

"Sure, I'll tell him just to see him gape at me," he answered. "Should be funny." And with that he left in search for his other insane friend. But then, Neville guessed he couldn't be too resentful. After all, they _were _his friends – even if they were insane.

**sSs**

xXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxSortingxXxHatxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXx

**sSs**

_**Explanation:**_

_Hit is ārweorþ þē tō mētenne, mīn hearra_ \- It is an honour to meet you, my lord

_mīn hearra_ – my lord

_gúþwine - old English for 'Comrade in war'_

**sSs**

_So, that's it for today._

_**About Peeves:**_

_Well, I guess he's not just your normal poltergeist. I hope I didn't make him act too out of canon character, I tried, believe me but it seems that he has his own head after all!_

_Anyway, Peeves: yes, he's odd. And yes, he knows a lot. There's a reason for it – maybe you guessed it?_

_Sorry that it took so long. Final year in collage and some such. As it is, I'm happy I found time to finally update. I definitely hate real life TT. But then, the chapter is rather long this time and I was tempted to split it up. I didn't, so you had to wait longer. xP Hope you appreciated that I decided to post Neville in one go. xD_

_Well, 'till next time._

_Ebenbild_


	8. Chapter 8

_**Disclaimer:**__ HP does not belong to me, just the idea I used on the characters… all recognizable things are Rowling's_

_**Information:**__ AU-Sorting, takes place in HP1. Reincarnation-fic!_

_**About Peeves**: some of you have really interesting ideas for him and I was tempted to change my plans for him just to follow your ideas... but well, I guess I've long since decided who my Peeves will be, so it won't happen. Instead I might give some more clues for now, but you will have to wait for the final answer._

_THANKS for your guesses. Nope, I won't outwardly say one of you is right. xD You'll see sometime in the future. Until then you still will have to guess, sorry. xD_

_**WARNING**: change of rating! I decided that it's time to add some serious tones to the story - just a little bit. I plan to keep it mostly humour but I need some more seriousness for my plot to continue._

_To all that send me ideas for pranks: __**THANK YOU VERY MUCH!**_

xXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxSortingxXxHatxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXx

**sSs**

**WHY TO SORT A STUDENT IS A HORRIBLE JOB**

**A STUDENT'S CASE – THE COLLABORATION**

**sSs**

"You know, Uncle, maybe you should go a little bit easier on them…"

"Easier? They are Slytherins. They don't respect people who don't have power!"

"Yes, well… but they are also children – scaring them to death –"

"Was exactly what I should have done from the start!"

"Uncle Salazar…"

"No! If you don't believe it, read it up in the library. I think there might be a book about Hogwarts in there somewhere…"

"Hogwarts – a History."

"You see –"

"It's utterly rubbish."

Silence.

"Ah, well… it has been a thousand years after all –"

"That's not –"

"Oh, hush you! I know exactly what I'm doing!"

"Uncle…"

"No! My house, my rules. Go, get your own students and raise them like you want them to be – or take your mothers. Who knows but they need it, R'ena's always too preoccupied to look after them like she should!"

"They're not my mother's students anymore, Uncle! And they're not yours anymore as well! You shouldn't have –"

This time a third voice interrupted. "Oh, shut it, Lena. He's right. It was his decision! And even if it wasn't – what's done is done." It was the Sorting Hat's.

"And they finally understand where I'm coming from," Salazar added smirking. "All in all it has been worth it."

The answer was a sigh.

"And I thought you've stopped being a Dark Lord some time ago…"

The Sorting Hat laughed at that.

"Losing your body helped to lose your mind as well, huh, Lena? Or have you somehow missed that from the moment we met, he's always been a Dark Lord – prankster or not?"

"But he never went all Dark Lord on the students –"

"Well, he's a student now. You can't expect him to apply the same rules than back then…"

The answer was an exasperated huff.

"This will cause havoc in the school…"

This time the Sorting Hat snorted.

"That is nothing new, Lena. He's always caused chaos – Dark Lord or not."

And his opponent couldn't even object that.

"At least, he's in Slytherin this time around…"

The answer was a pout from the object of their conversation.

"And that's all Godric's fault. I wanted to be a Gryffindor or a Hufflepuff!"

The answer was an exclamation of horror. "Merlin have mercy! Hogwarts would have been leveled to the ground within a week if that would have happened, Uncle!"

Oddly enough, neither Salazar nor the Sorting Hat objected that particular observation…

sSsSsSs

Slytherin House had always been the most hierarchically structured house of Hogwarts. It was normal in that house that you had betters and that, the older you were, the higher in rank you would get. Students of Slytherin House simply were trained that way.

If you were new, you would have a hard time to fight against the older students, so you gave in to them until you yourself were older. It was something every Slytherin learned to accept within weeks. Even if you were top dog of your year, the long there were older years, you still had betters.

Of course, here and there an odd one out would exist.

Some students were simply too nice for Slytherin and because of that stayed at the bottom of the house for all their years at Hogwarts. Others were unable to build the proper connections to advance very high or they hadn't enough power to win the fights of power within the house. Some even were just too lazy to try for the top or they were unable to truly integrate themselves into the house and because of that ended up at the bottom.

Others instead advanced within unusual few years to the utter top of Slytherin. Those ended up uncontested queens or kings of Slytherin, unchallenged because of their power, their connections or their ruthlessness.

That was Slytherin.

That was normal.

Marcus Flint had always thought that it would stay that way for all the years he would stay at Hogwarts – but then came Potter.

The first thing that was different with the boy, Marcus discovered the day the boy had been sorted into Slytherin.

Potter had sat down at their table after giving a short bow towards Theodore Nott and kissing Daphne Greengrass's and Tracy Davis's hand.

Unlike the other first years, the boy was oddly stiff mannered, always taking care how he addressed the other students, always sitting straight and speaking in measured tones.

So, the first impression of Harry Potter was a conflicted one. Potter was a known half-blood, but at the same time clearly had been trained to be far more formal than even a pureblood boy at that age would behave.

Then the feast ended and Marcus was granted another look at Potter's personality.

They had brought the first years to their common room and Potter had immediately vanished into its shadows.

Unlike the other first years, who tried to find their place in their new home, Potter watched.

He even continued watching when their Head of House entered.

It was the entrance of their Head that told Marcus Flint that this time some things would be different in the house of snakes.

Severus Snape, a man, who normally favored Slytherins, had entered and sneered at Potter.

"From today onwards, Slytherin will be your family," Snape said, his fathomless black eyes turning to Potter. "And like in every proper family, there will be rules which some of you might find difficult to follow." Marcus and a lot of others had followed Snape's gaze towards the oblivious face of the first year Slytherin that stood in the shadows.

"I know that some of you might find it hard to accept their new place at the bottom of the hierarchy," again, Snape's eyes snapped to Potter's. "While others, who know proper behavior will rise to the top –" this time he looked towards the Malfoy boy. "- so I just say this once: your place in Slytherin will have nothing to do with your… _famousness_… in the outer world –" again a look towards Potter. "- In here, you will be solely judged by your skills, be they meagre and not worth mentioning, or just not yet polished." At that he turned his way to the other first years.

Nevertheless, the intentions of Snape were clear.

Potter was not one of them.

He might have been sorted into their house, he might wear their colours, but he would not be one of them.

Even the first years seemed to understand the message – well, every first year bare the one that was repudiated by them.

And so it continued – no one ever questioning why Snape was so intent on rejecting that particular boy.

sSsSsSs

Maybe, Marcus would have never thought about the repudiation of the Potter-boy, if it hadn't been for the morning after. After all, the boy had seemed to be oblivious – and a Slytherin not seeing that he was ejected, was no Slytherin at all. As it happened, it would be because of the next morning that Marcus Flint would start to pay more attention to the one Slytherin that wasn't counted as one of them.

The morning after the sorting, the boy had sat down where the higher ranking students of Slytherin had their seats.

Of course, Marcus and his friends, who were part of those higher ranking Slytherins, weren't pleased at all when they got to the table and saw a first year occupying their seats.

"Hey, Potter," Marcus had said annoyed. "Didn't you listen yesterday when Snape explained the rules of Slytherin to us?"

At that, the younger boy turned and looked at him.

"Are you talking about that highly objective speech, filled with slurs in my direction, Master Flint?" The boy replied with a raised eyebrow before grabbing some toast and eggs to fill his plate. "A highly offensive occurrence, if you'd ask me."

Marcus blinked at that surprised.

The boy wasn't wrong, per say. Their Head of House might have explained their rules like always, but unlike the last years, every time he had talked about breaking them and about being unable to comprehend them – even every time he had uttered an insult – the man had looked at Potter. And Potter had obviously noticed even if it had seemed back then as if he hadn't understood the implications towards him at all.

"Exactly that speech, Potter," Marcus finally settled on.

Potter shrugged.

"Of course I listened," he said while spreading butter on his toast. "It would have been highly impractical not to ensure that I know the rules of the house… especially if I plan to break them – don't you think so, too, Master Flint?"

That, so Marcus thought, was a definitely odd explanation for a reason to listen. But then, their Head of House had continuously implied that Potter would be unable to understand the rules. Maybe that man was right… or maybe the boy had decided to protest his treatment by doing exactly what their teacher had implied he would do…

"Slytherin House, Potter, is based on these rules," Marcus finally settled on. "There will be a lot of displeased people if you dare to break them." And with that he looked pointedly at his place – the place Potter was currently sitting in.

The boy spread marmalade on his toast and then took a bite, seemingly oblivious to Marcus' stares.

"Feeling displeased won't help them, Master Flint," he said instead. "But then, I guess they are the right age to learn how to cope with disappointment."

Marcus' frown deepened at that.

"You might find somewhere else to sit, Potter," one of the younger years – a second or third year – whispered urgently to Potter at that moment. He was just in time to stop Marcus from going out of his way and challenging a first year to a duel so that the snotty nosed brat would learn to never cross his elders.

The Potter-boy looked up at that and at the one who told him to change seats.

"Why?" Potter asked puzzled. "I like sitting here."

And for a second Marcus thought that Potter truly didn't know – but then Potter turned and knowing eyes met his own.

"It's a cozy seat, don't you think so, too, Master Flint?"

Then, deliberately slowly, Potter ate the rest of his toast and eggs, before he stood up and made room. He bowed slightly to Marcus and his friends, then left with a stiff: "A blessed morrow to you, Master Flint."

And Marcus wondered how Potter could at the same time extremely formal and in a lord's way, well-behaved as well as breaking several rules of Slytherin deliberately. It was an odd combination – and it would be just the start of several odd encounters between Marcus and Potter. Those encounters went even so far, that just three weeks later, Marcus had resigned himself to challenging Potter verbally every breakfast. It seemed as if the boy had truly taken a shine to Marcus' place at the table…

And that was something the other upper years soon noticed as well. Of course, the pranks happening had distracted them for a while, but soon Marcus had more people challenging him for his place in the Slytherin hierarchy than ever before. It seems that Potter being able to get away from him daily had destroyed a part of Marcus' reputation – at least until at the end of September.

sSsSsSs

At the end of September, Marcus woke up already feeling ill.

Still, he figured that it was simply a cold and went to breakfast like always before heading to class. Classes went well even with Marcus feeling a little bit ill and soon the day had ended and Marcus heeded to the library to finish his homework.

It was then, that it happened.

Two lower ranking students of Marcus' own year flanked him suddenly in the hallway to the library before forcing him to change his path towards one of the unused classrooms.

Marcus knew instantly what they were planning: a quiet challenge for his position in Slytherin House – not quite legal, but also not illegal.

And Marcus, since he hadn't gone to the hospital wing, couldn't say no.

Marcus cursed inwardly at that.

He didn't have the energy to fight of a challenger right now – this was a sure way to losing that position he had worked for since first year. If he wouldn't have been ill, he wouldn't have any problems and if Potter wouldn't constantly use Marcus' seat at breakfast, he also wouldn't have any problems.

But like it was now…

Marcus guessed that he would have to pray for a wonder to safe him.

The wonder happened – just not the way Marcus had ever thought that it would.

"Oh… ickle Slytherins on the way of breaking rules," a voice suddenly gushed and then Peeves appeared not far from Marcus, gliding through the wall of another unused classroom. "Peevesie is so happy to see some more unruly children! What plans do the ickle Slytherins have? Colouring the floors to annoy Filch? Throwing chalk?"

A maniac gleam entered the poltergeist's eyes at that.

"Dueling?" this word, the poltergeist stretched and the gleam took up a notch. "Oh… Peevesie will watch! Peevesie will love to watch!"

"What we do is none of your business, Peeves!" one of the other two Slytherins snarled at that. "Cause your trouble elsewhere. This is a matter of Slytherin house!"

The sudden mischievous grin of the poltergeist definitely wasn't reassuring to Marcus.

"But Peevesie loves to watch a good pranking!" Peeves exclaimed while showing his teeth in an almost feral manner. "And Peevesie can smell a good pranking everywhere!"

The other of Marcus' two challengers scoffed at that.

"Whatever," he said. "As long as you don't interfere. If you do, we'll tell the Baron!"

The grin on the poltergeist's face didn't lessen.

"Peevesie won't do anything," the spectre exclaimed. "Eddy won't have to step in to keep Peevesie in line!"

Marcus guessed that the spectre was talking about the Bloody Baron when it spoke about 'Eddy'.

The other Slytherins seemed to understand it like that as well, because after sneering at Peeves for another second, they turned back to Marcus.

"Well, Flint," one of them said grinning. "Now that you're finally alone… I, Rufus Amicus Carrow challenge you, Marcus Sebastian Flint, to a duel for your place in the Slytherin House hierarchy. Do you accept or forfeit?"

That was it.

The dreaded words.

Marcus sighed.

"I accept," he said. And he truly had no choice in that. If he had fortified, he would have lost not only his current position in Slytherin House but would have ended up on the bottom of the whole hierarchy.

The feral grin of the other Slytherin and his witness didn't reassure Marcus at all.

Then Carrow drew his wand and before Marcus' clouded mind could even think of doing the same, a spell was hurled his way.

The next moment Carrow was thrown against the opposite wall – wearing a muggle clown's mask while his tutu turned into one of brightly and most of all, clashing colours.

Where he met the wall, a huge blur of bright violet colour was left behind.

Peeves roared with laughter.

The second Slytherin turned at Peeves at that, his eyes narrowing.

"You promised not to do anything, you nuisance!"

"Oh! But Peevesie didn't do anything!" the poltergeist sing-songed at that before again bursting out into laughter. "Peevesie would never interfere with great pranks like that! Never! Never!"

Carrow's eyes narrowed at that, then he seemed to come to the conclusion that it had been Marcus who did it.

He whipped his wand at the other Slytherin and cast another spell.

Marcus could just stare when the lower ranking student was again thrown against the wall, the colours of his clothing turning even more hideous while leaving behind a blur of puke-green colour.

That set Peeves of laughing again.

"Peevesie loves it!" the poltergeist crowed. "Maybe idiotic Slytherin number two wants to try as well?" That sounded oddly hopeful…

Marcus just stared, his mind not truly comprehending what was happening.

"What –" he finally managed to utter. He couldn't talk any further because the other Slytherin whipped out his wand and tried to course him as well – just to fail as spectacularly like Carrow while painting part of the wall a nice sunny yellow.

Luckily enough, Peeves answered the question even if he hadn't ended them.

"You're currently in challenge with another Slytherin," the poltergeist snickered. "It's always nice to see the work of my idol to protect the protocols of Slytherin."

Then the poltergeist showed its teeth.

"Please don't draw your wand and accept the challenge. It's far funnier to watch the curse take its toll on the rule-breakers, don't you think so, too?"

And that was the day that Marcus started to suspect that not all facts of history were true. It was also the day that was the start of the dropping of his challenges. Somehow, those that challenged him and cursed him while he hadn't drawn his wand ended up in the most interesting conditions; somehow Peeves seemed always to know when to look for him to have a first row seat and somehow the upturning of even more pranked Slytherins after challenging him made them leave him alone. It seemed as if neither of them wanted to risk walking around painted like a clown for a week or longer…

Just one thing was left of those episodes that bothered Marcus.

Peeves had said he was 'in challenge' with somebody else – but the only one who ever challenged him without a duel was Potter…

Did that mean he was in challenge with a first year Slytherin?!

Marcus would have tried to free himself of that challenge – if it hadn't been for what he witnessed not even a week later…

sSsSsSs

It was a Friday night and Potter, as usual, was found not anywhere even near the common room. Instead, Marcus saw him sitting in an alcove near the library, reading. It was not an unusual activity for the miss-sorted Slytherin, so Marcus wouldn't have even bothered to stop, or even taken a longer look at the child, if the boy hadn't spoken up just when Marcus had passed him.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," the boy said and Marcus turned around, thinking that the boy had spoken to him – just to see that the boy wasn't even watching him. Instead, Potter was watching four fourth year female Ravenclaws, who had cornered a first year Slytherin.

Theodore Nott, Marcus recognized.

And maybe Marcus would have stepped in then, since the boy was one of them, but before he could even think about it, Potter had already stood up and walked in between the four Ravenclaws and the Slytherin.

"Stop it," he repeated and his voice had suddenly an icy edge in it that Marcus had never heard before.

One of the Ravenclaws – Cho Chang, was her name, if Marcus remembered – scoffed at the Potter-boy.

"And do you truly think we are afraid of a little, dirty Slytherin like you?" her friend asked.

Potter raised an eyebrow.

"Afraid, no," he said. "At least not as long as you don't provoke me further."

This time Cho Chang spoke up. "And what will you do if we do? You have no chance against one of us – and we are four."

Potter's face was an expressionless mask.

"You don't want to know," he answered then.

The Ravenclaws scuffed at that.

"You're a first year, little Slytherin – what can you do?" one of them said. "Shoot sparks at us?"

And then, before Potter could even draw his wand, another of the Ravenclaws shot an _Expelliarmus _at him and took it.

Potter just looked at the wand, then at the Ravenclaws' faces, but when Cho Chang took away his bag with a nasty smile, something changed in his eyes.

The normally clear green eyes lit up with silver flames, consuming eye pupils and irises alike.

Marcus had never seen or heard of a change like that.

Then one of the other Ravenclaws ripped open Potter's bag – and suddenly the hallway was flung into all-consuming darkness.

Only Potter's oddly silver eyes could be seen, their gaze scary, promising painful retribution.

Marcus couldn't actually see, what happened, but he could hear the fearful cries of the Ravenclaws quite well.

Then the light returned.

The Ravenclaws didn't look worse to the wear but their demeanor had changed totally. Their eyes held fear and they shrunk away from the eleven year old with the same wariness they normally showed Snape.

"My wand and my bag," the Potter-boy said, his voice expressionless.

One of the Ravenclaws bowed down and repaired the bag before handing it and the wand to him while at the same time desperately trying to keep his distance.

Potter took it from her hands, his eyes still alight with silver flames.

"Next time, I won't go easy on you," he told the elder students. "Keep bullying and I will make you stop forcefully. Believe me, you won't like my idea of punishment."

The answer was a short jerk of one of the Ravenclaws' heads. Then they fled.

Potter instead turned to Theodore Nott.

"Tell me if they try again," he said coolly. "I don't tolerate bullying. If the teachers don't stop it – I will."

And with that, Potter returned to his alcove and his book as if nothing had happened just now.

That was the day that Marcus started to think that maybe – just maybe – there was more to Potter than met the eye.

sSsSsSs

A day later, Marcus was called to the Headmaster's office.

Marcus didn't feel at ease with the calling, but he couldn't think of anything that he had done, so in the end he just squared his shoulders and went.

The moment he stepped into the Headmaster's office, he couldn't stop himself from visibly swallowing.

It was not only the Headmaster, but also the four Heads of House that were waiting for him.

"You wanted to see me, Headmaster?" Marcus said, hoping that why-ever he was called here wouldn't end with his expulsion or worse.

"I did, Mr. Flint," the Headmaster replied, his face serious, his eyes grave. "Please have a seat."

If it hadn't been a show of bad manners, Marcus would have stayed standing. But he was a Slytherin. He was a well bred pureblood. So he sat.

"May I ask why you called me, Headmaster?" he asked.

The Headmaster just watched him after that question, then the old man sighed.

"You're here, Mr. Flint, to discuss your disrupting pranks this year. From what I've been told you've always been a model student so your pranks this year –"

"Excuse me, Headmaster," Marcus interrupted at that. "But – what pranks are you talking about?"

The Headmaster's face darkened.

"The tutus, gender-switch –"

"But – I didn't do those!" Marcus objected, well aware that he was breaking social rules but also unable to wait until the Headmaster had finished his accusation.

"Mr. Flint!" That was Snape. "You've been spotted by different teachers after cursing your fellow students repeatedly! Do. Not. Deny. It!"

Marcus blinked at that confused.

"But I didn't curse –"

"So you're telling us that your fellow students just by chance turned into clowns and who knows what after meeting you?" Snape spat.

Marcus' eyes widened.

"No! But Peeves –"

He wasn't even able to finish his words when the Headmaster suddenly sat up straighter.

"Peeves!" he exclaimed, then he turned to the headmaster portraits at the wall. "Could one of you please bring our poltergeist in here. It seems as if he has something to do with those pranks after all…"

Marcus opened his mouth to continue, but he was hushed by his Head of House with a single glance. The glance was one of those that showed how displeased the professor was and Marcus was a Slytherin. He valued his life. So he snapped his mouth shut again and waited in silence.

Five minutes later, Peeves entered the Headmaster's office, grinning widely – then the spectre spotted Marcus and its grin stretched even wider.

"Oh… does ickle Flinty plan to wait for a challenge from the Headmaster?" the poltergeist exclaimed cackling. "Oh! Peevesie would love to see the Headmaster painting the walls!"

Then the poltergeist snickered.

"Oh how Peevesie would love it!"

"Peeves!" that was the headmaster. "What are you talking about?"

The poltergeist looked up at that.

"Ickle Flinty is cursed," he said. "As long as he's in challenge no one will be able to fight him as long as he doesn't accept by drawing his wand."

Then a mischievous smile entered the poltergeist's face.

"Maybe Headmaster wants to try?" the spectre asked innocently.

The Headmaster and the Heads of House looked at each other in surprise. Then Snape spoke up, his face pinched.

"Flint! What's truly going on there?"

And Marcus took a deep breath and started to explain.

At the end of his explanation, the Headmaster looked at him thoughtfully.

"May I take a look?" he finally ask Marcus and Marcus hesitated just a moment before he nodded – what else could he do? It _was_ the headmaster, after all…

Two seconds later the headmaster was pinned to the wall where a bright blue blur of colour surrounded him and Peeves roared with laughter again.

It seemed as if the creator of that particular protection had truly been a genius…

"Maybe, that wasn't such a bright idea," Marcus thought while watching the Headmaster who tried to free himself of the prank without succeeding. "Maybe I should have just walked away while I still could…"

sSsSsSs

The next time, Marcus had that thought was when the current Prince of Slytherin House finally lost his patience with the Potter-boy just two weeks before Hallowe'en.

That night, when Potter returned from his visit with his Gryffindor friends, the seventh year Prefect waited for him in the common room.

"This has gone on long enough, Potter," the prince said, not the least amused. "You're a Slytherin. Collaborating with Gryffindors is nothing a Slytherin would do. This has to stop!"

Potter just raised an eyebrow at the seventh year.

"Give me a good reason why," he finally said, crooking his head to the side, seemingly in consideration.

"I gave you the reason," was the sneered answer. "You're a Slytherin. We don't get along with Gryffindors. Now get your act together before I help you with it."

When hearing that words, Potter's eyes started to shine with silver fire again.

"Don't threaten me, princeling," he said coolly. "There are things in the world, you won't like to experience. People like I are one of them."

For a moment, there was something tangible in the air around Potter, something that was echoing in the whole common room. Then the feeling vanished as if it had never been there and Potter spoke again.

"I might be a Slytherin – but I am no one's to control. Your Head of House said it himself: Slytherins know their betters. I know mine – and I won't even try to fit in by groveling to the feet of people who aren't."

And with that he turned and left the Prince of Slytherin House standing as if the other boy was no threat at all.

"Fine," the Prince said. "We'll see how you cope when there's no one to turn to anymore."

Potter stopped at that and turned back to face the Prince.

"No one to turn to?" he asked emotionlessly. "Tell me, oh prince of Slytherin, was there ever someone in here that listened to me since the day I walked into the layer? Do you truly believe I didn't hear the slurs against me, uttered by your Head of House? Do you truly think I don't see the hatred in his eyes? The prejudice in yours? I see it all. I always did. Now tell me truthfully – who of you did give me a fair chance from the moment I was sorted into Slytherin?"

The common room was utterly silent at that.

Potter looked around, measuring them up and Marcus had the feeling of being found somehow… lacking. As if he hadn't past an important test.

"No one?" Potter said in that moment emotionlessly. "It seems, my assumption wasn't wrong, then."

Then he turned to the Prince.

"I guess that I'm not worse for it if you ban me from the house," and with that he bowed stiffly and then left the common room again.

The moment the entrance was closed, the Prince turned around and looked at the other students of Slytherin.

"Potter has now shown that he isn't one of us. From now on we will treat him like the nuisance he is. Maybe he will learn like that to behave like a proper Slytherin."

From then on the Potter-boy was basically shunned by the rest of the house. The Prince had gone out of his way to ensure that no one even thought about speaking to the boy or even working with him.

If it would have happened to another, the Head of House would have stepped in, but it was Potter – so nothing of that sort happened.

Instead, it just worsened over time. They changed the password so that Potter couldn't enter the common rooms and dorms anymore, ensured that he couldn't eat at the Slytherin table anymore and went out of their way to make his life hell.

Potter instead, didn't seem too bothered by it. He scoffed at their behavior, his eyes narrowly watching them, always alight with silver fire, always seeing more than anybody else's.

Instead of sitting at Slytherin table, he sat at Gryffindor.

Instead of talking to friends or housemates he started to talk to his hat.

And even with the password changed, you still could find him in the common rooms or dorms after curfew – no one ever able to find out how he entered.

To Marcus' surprise, Theodore Nott, unlike the others, never went out of his way to shun the other boy or make him miserable. He didn't officially speak to Potter, but he also said nothing when the boy sat down next to him in the common room or the library. Instead he often gave Potter his homework to read it over and correct it for him or lend him one of his books.

The other Slytherin watched the display with narrowed eyes, the Prince looking angrier and angrier the longer Nott basically ignored his directions.

It was the day after Hallowe'en, when Marcus finally reacted.

He grabbed Theodore Nott by his arm and pulled him in an unused classroom just after classes.

Nott just stared at him coolly.

"Do you want something, Flint?" he asked him.

Marcus' eyes narrowed, but Theodore was a first year Slytherin of a respected pureblood family which was allied with the Flints. Marcus had at least to try and warn him.

"The Prince isn't happy with you, Nott," he said. "If you don't start to keep a distance from Potter, he will act. I don't want you to have to duel him for your decisions. You will lose if you do."

Nott's eyes narrowed at that.

"I'll take the chance with him then," he finally said coolly. "I can live with his wrath – but I won't survive if…" He trailed of at that, turning away his head. "Never mind. Thank you for the warning, Flint."

But this time, Marcus couldn't let it be.

"You don't seem to understand, Nott," he hissed. "You're about to be shunned by the whole Slytherin house for your actions as well – after you have been thoroughly smashed by the Prince himself for your refusal to listen to his rules!"

He was surprised when Nott met his eyes head on at that.

"I know, Flint," he said. "But I simply _can't_ follow the Prince's orders on that. I, unlike the others, value my life –"

"But –"

"You have _seen_ what Potter is capable of! The incident with the Ravenclaws – that wasn't luck! That magic you saw – it was fully in his control. No accidental magic! No luck! It was a bloody scary example of full control! The moment the Prince will challenge Potter directly, he will lose!" Nott elaborated.

Marcus just sighed at that.

"Potter is still a child of eleven. His abilities to use magic are nothing but ordinary. He won't stand a chance..." he finally explained to the Nott heir. Said boy just raised an eyebrow.

"I, for my part, am not able to use blood magic with the same ease that he displays," Nott said at that coolly. "If you could do it at his age, then maybe I'm wrong and I'm just exceptionally slow to learn magic like that but I always thought that there aren't a lot of people learned enough to even come close mastering blood magic at our grandparents age – seeing one so young, I thought that it maybe was better to stay in his good graces…"

It was then, that it finally clicked in Marcus' mind.

Silver fire in Potter's eyes.

Silver fire, swallowing pupils and irises.

Blood magic.

Even the purebloods nowadays had stopped practicing that particular kind of magic for the most parts. There were some rituals that were still part of what they taught their children, but true blood magic was considered far too dangerous to practice. Too many wizards had lost either themselves to the magic or had been forced to pay a heavy price for its uses.

Today, there weren't a lot of people still using it. The only ones Marcus could remember were the Ollivanders and, oddly enough, the Lovegoods. And neither of those families were known to be utterly sane…

"How did you -?" he started to ask, but Nott interrupted him.

"-Know?" he said scoffing. "I knew the moment I saw his eyes glowing in the dark. Unlike the most of the others, I haven't forgotten the stories that my parents told me when I was little about Salazar Slytherin. I even went so far to confirm my knowledge with the Bloody Baron the day after being helped by Potter. Do you know what the Baron said? He said: 'Whatever you do, do_ not_ cross him. Go against your own house. Go against the school – if you have to, go against the bloody whole world! But do _not_ cross him if you want to live.' Like I said, I value my life. Even if I'm shunned by the house, even if I'm challenged to a duel – I will stay in Potter's good graces."

And with that, Nott left the room, leaving a pensive Marcus Flint behind.

That evening, the Prince finally challenged Theodore Nott to a duel in front of the whole common room.

"Since you think you can refuse to listen to me, I guess you are up to fighting with me," he sneered at the boy. Theodore Nott just returned the angered gaze blankly.

"I don't think that I can win against you, Prince," he finally said.

"So you're admitting defeat already?" the Prince sneered.

The rest of the common room laughed at that – at least until the Bloody Baron entered.

"I was alert to a challenge to the student head of Slytherin?" he asked in a grave voice.

Marcus shuddered at that voice. It always gave him the chills and normally he preferred to leave the common room if someone challenged the Prince since he hated to hear the ghost's voice when he came to observe the duel.

This time, Marcus couldn't leave. Nott was an ally to his family – he had at least to watch the duel.

"Theodore Nott decided that my orders weren't final," the Prince said coolly. "Since he decided that he knows better, he has to prove it to me."

The Bloody Baron turned at that towards Nott – and, to Marcus' surprise, winced.

"Are you sure that you want to do that, prince?" he finally asked the Prince while his eyes never left the Nott child. "It's not even half a year since the beginning of term. You've already decided wrongly once – do you really want to set yourself up to defeat?"

The Prince frowned at that.

"I have not decided anything wrongly, Baron," he started to say, but the Baron just sighed and shook his head.

"Then do it, Prince. And do it now. If you're lucky he won't know until you're done here," he ghost said tiredly. "Though I wouldn't count on it…"

Immediately the rest of the common room made some space for the Prince and his opponent. Theodore Nott still stood like rooted on the spot and Marcus could see the fear in the boy's eyes that the boy desperately tried to hide. To be truthful, Marcus was surprised that the Nott child was still standing and hadn't run away until now.

Then the platform activated and the spells that would shield the opponents from the crowd and the crowd from the opponents spells, went up.

The Prince grinned and drew his wand.

The Nott child just stood there, sweating now with fear.

Then the Prince flicked his wand lazily, hurling a curse at the child. Marcus immediately recognized it as a borderline pain curse.

No one expected the duel to last more than that one spell – and maybe they would have been right, if the spell had found its target.

As it was, it was suddenly repelled and thrown back at the caster with a force that a normal_ Protego_ couldn't muster.

"It seems that you didn't heed my warning, Princeling," a soft voice uttered and then Harry James Potter stepped fully into the common room. His eyes were burning silver and the happy-go-lucky attitude that he displayed outside the common room was exchanged with the same expressionless mask he had worn while dealing with the Ravenclaw bullies and the Prince's threats.

The Bloody Baron turned to face the new arrival.

"_Mīn hearra,"_ he said hesitatingly. "I thought you weren't interested in entering the usual squabble for the students' head."

Silver eyes turned to the Bloody Baron.

"I saw no reason to do so, Edward," he said. "But it seems that staying out of this kind of childish squabble isn't accepted and since I threatened them before and they still won't listen, I guess that I have now to make my threat true."

And with that his silver eyes found the Prince's ones.

"Sa'zu," another voice said, coming from Potter's hat. "They're children…"

"They're Slytherins, _gúþwine,_" the Potter boy replied. "They should know better."

The answer was a sigh from the enchanted hat.

"At least abide Helga's rules for punishments, would you?" it then asked.

Potter seemed to consider it for a moment, then he shrugged.

"Alright. No killing, then," he said and this time a shiver of fear ran through Marcus' body. That shouldn't have sounded as threatening as it did, considering that it came from an eleven-year-old.

The Prince scuffed at that.

"So you think that you can simply enter into the duel between me and Nott?" he said sneering.

Potter just raised an eyebrow and turned his gaze to the Bloody Baron.

"Actually, since you challenged an ally of his, he can, Prince," the ghost said before turning to Potter. "May I remind you of the carpet, _mīn hearra?_" he asked. "I don't think that, unlike the last time, it will be as easy to find a new one after sullying it with blood. Quality like that costs a little fortune now."

Marcus wasn't the only one staring at the Bloody Baron after that exclamation.

"Th… the carpet?" he heard one of the younger students stuttered. "Why are you concerned of the carpet?!"

The Bloody Baron simply raised his eyebrows, clearly unconcerned.

"He managed to nearly bleed out his last opponent on the last one," the ghost answered. "Not that I ever liked the old carpet. But this one is a whole different matter."

"He can still forfeit," Potter said while stepping out of the shadows and into the dueling area. "Like that there would be no chance of the carpet being sullied."

The Baron sighed and turned to the hat.

"And you used to think you'd manage to curb his old habits a bit," he said.

The hat snickered.

"At least he's decided to play fair thanks to me?" it offered.

The Baron sighed again and then turned to the Prince and Potter.

"Well, begin," he said while motioning for the Nott child to leave the dueling area which the lad did gratefully.

The Prince turned towards his new opponent, sizing Potter up with a sneer.

Marcus knew that the most of the common room expected it to end as quickly as the duel with Nott would have had. Potter was a first year, after all.

But Marcus – even if he hadn't truly understood the interaction of the Bloody Baron and Potter – wasn't deaf. He had heard the finality that the Baron had used when speaking about the duel. The Baron didn't even consider the Prince winning…

Then the Prince cast his first spell – a borderline dark cutting curse.

Potter sidestepped.

"Too slow," he said.

The Prince growled at him and cast his second spell, and again Potter sidestepped.

"Still too slow."

It was like watching a toddler trying to outrun an adult.

Whatever the Prince cast, Potter always simply stepped aside and let it pass.

Within minutes, the Prince started to get frustrated – Potter's comments about his speed not helping.

The curses of the Prince got more erratic and the frustration broke the Slytherin mask of the Prince – still, Potter didn't lift his wand, but sidestepped the curses anyway.

"Your aim's truly off now," Potter commented.

"You little -!" and with that the Prince charged at the tiny first year, magic forgotten. He swung his fist at the younger boy, but Potter ducked and then lashed out.

Marcus couldn't even follow Potter with his eyes. One second, the boy had ducked away from the charging Prince of Slytherin, the next said Prince was lying on the floor, his head held to the side by the hand in his hair and a knife at his throat.

"Awful performance," the boy said coolly. "No patience, no stealth, no strength in your power nor a good stance or strategy. If I had wanted it, you would have been dead within a second."

Utter silence filled the common room at that. They all stared at their Prince and the one boy they had been shunning.

"You –!" the Prince exclaimed, and tried to throw of the Potter boy. The next moment blood soaked the carpet and those Slytherins that had decided to draw their wands to help the Prince cried out when their hands started to blister.

The Prince made a choking sound. He wasn't dead, yet, but considering the amount of blood running, he would be within minutes.

Potter looked down at him coolly, his eyes tranquil as if it bothered him not the slightest that he had just nearly slit another ones throat.

The Prince instead – like the most of Slytherin – had panic in his eyes.

Even Marcus was trembling with shock and fear.

Potter instead just stood up and slipped away his knife before looking with interest at his blood-soaked hand. He rubbed his thumb against his index and middle finger, smearing the blood a little bit further – all the while not even bothered with the choking breaths of the Prince.

Then the first Slytherins understood what exactly was happening and either turned around to leave the common room to call Madam Pomphrey or their Head of House, while others hurried to the prince's side to either stem the blood flow or try healing spells on him.

Neither of the spells worked and the entrance wouldn't open.

Utter fear now laced the faces of all Slytherin students.

Then Potter looked up, right at the Prince who was choking on his own blood.

"The next time," Potter said coolly. "The illusion of a slit throat will be the last of your worries."

And with that, he let his hand fall to his side – and with it, the blood on the hand and the carpet vanished. The wound on the Prince's throat also simply faded out of existence. Immediately the Prince's hand grabbed his own throat, confirming that it was whole and unhurt.

Then he turned to look at Potter.

The boy returned his gaze evenly.

"I won't play again," Potter said emotionlessly, then he turned around and left the common room again – the entrance sliding open for him as if nothing was wrong.

The other Slytherins followed his figure with their eyes silently.

When the entrance closed, the silence remained until Marcus finally found his voice again.

"An illusion?" he asked, still pale with fear. "How? I mean… you can't simply produce such a realistic illusion with a simple charm…"

It was the Bloody Baron who answered.

"It wasn't a charm," he said. "He's a master of the mind arts. Whatever you saw – it never happened. He enacted it all in your head."

"But – why?" one of the third years asked. "Why?!"

The answer was a grave gaze.

"Because for all his fun loving nature, he's still no one you should cross. He doesn't tolerate bullying and he doesn't tolerate bias. Be happy that his preferred method of teaching those who wrong him, are illusions.

And that was the day that Slytherin finally understood that the Potter-boy was not only one of them – but also their better.

The next day, when Marcus came to the table in the Great Hall and found Potter eating in his place, he swallowed before sitting down in another seat.

Marcus didn't care what Snape said.

Potter was a Slytherin.

He was a happy-go-lucky kind of guy.

He was best friends with Gryffindors.

He would have liked to be sorted in either Gryffindor or Hufflepuff.

He had no official rank in his house.

Whatever – all that didn't change a thing.

Potter was a Slytherin – and neither of Slytherin would ever challenge him again.

sSsSsSs

"I still think your actions weren't right," Lena said sighing.

Salazar just shrugged.

"I don't care," he said. "I had to teach them – and teach them I did. It was the same the last time I was part of the house."

"The last time you were its head, Uncle!" Lena exclaimed agitated. "That's different!"

Salazar snorted at that.

"No, I wasn't," he said. "The last time I was a student – exactly like now."

"Then why –"

"Because I was still searching for a way to atone for my sins," Salazar answered sighing.

"And now you aren't anymore?" Lena asked surprised.

Salazar shook his head.

"I always will," he said sincerely. "Until my final day I will try to atone for the grievance I caused those I loved the most. It was my fault. Everything that happened was my fault. I made a mistake and we all paid for it tenfold."

"Mother would object –"

Salazar just shook his head.

"She wouldn't," he said.

"But Peeves would," the Sorting Hat said and Salazar blinked at that confused.

"Peeves?" he asked. "I thought –"

"Nope. She doesn't hate that name anymore. She's calling herself that for centuries now. I'm truly surprised that you two haven't met until now…" the Sorting Hat said.

Salazar blinked.

"Well, I was preoccupied," he said. "But I guess you're right. I _should_ meet Peeves again…"

The Salazar grinned.

"But first I'll have to set loose my next prank in honour to the brightest witch I ever knew! Do you think she'll appreciate it?"

The Sorting Hat just groaned.

"Just don't do anything to the library. If you do, I'm quite sure _you_ won't appreciate her answer to your prank!"

The answering smirk wasn't reassuring at all. But then, it _was_ Salazar Slytherin – so what did Godric expect…

"We're dead. There's no way we will survive her wrath."

**sSs**

xXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxSortingxXxHatxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXx

**sSs**

_**Explanation:**_

_mīn hearra_ – my lord

_gúþwine - old English for 'Comrade in war'_

**sSs**

_So, that's it for today._

_Sorry that it took so long. Final year in collage and some such. As it is, I'm happy I found time to finally update. I definitely hate real life TT._

_Well, 'till next time._

_Ebenbild_


	9. Chapter 9

_**Disclaimer:**__ HP does not belong to me, just the idea I used on the characters… all recognizable things are Rowlings_

_**Information:**__ AU-Sorting, takes place in HP1. Reincarnation-fic!_

_To all that send me ideas for pranks: __**THANK YOU VERY MUCH!**_

xXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxSortingxXxHatxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXx

**sSs**

**WHY TO SORT A STUDENT IS A HORRIBLE JOB**

**A STUDENT'S CASE – THE CONCLUSION**

**sSs**

Theodore Nott had always been a cautious person. He had learned long before Hogwarts that things weren't always as they looked to be. It had been his grandfather who had given him said lesson quite early in life.

"We're a proud family," his grandfather had said. "We have every reason to be, because our family was one of the first that ever attended Hogwarts. We're old, we're powerful and we have always been Slytherin to the core."

Those words had always been his grandfather's mantra – but it had been the words that followed, that had taught Theodore the most important lesson in his short life.

"But that doesn't mean that we have never had a black sheep in the family," the old man had said. "Your father might act like the typical raised pureblood in society – but unlike your uncles and myself he never understood that being Slytherin doesn't mean to just crave for power: It means to always look at everything from every possible angle and then chose the best path to ensure your survival. Your father might be preaching the power of the Dark Lord to you, but he has never even tried to look at the doings of said man from another ankle. He has never tried to see if the other side might have valid points as well. He is listening to the preaching of muggleborns being less than we are, but he is not looking at our society and seeing that it would have been long since dead if muggleborns wouldn't have entered it for so many years. So don't forget, little Theodore: Things aren't always like they look to be. There's always a second side to everything and it's the Slytherins' task to see both sides of the coin."

Theodore had never understood that part until he had been sorted into Slytherin. It was the day of the sorting that everything he ever knew was turned upside-down.

Until then, Theodore Nott grew up knowing exactly what was expected of him. His parents had early on told him about the heroic deeds of the Dark Lord and his quest to rescue the magical world from the influence of the Muggle one. His parents had also explained to him the importance of pureness and their expectations that he would be a Slytherin, part of the superior house of Hogwarts and like that far away from the unruly influence of uncivilized Muggles with magic.

His grandfather had always contradicted those statements, but in the end, Theodore had believed his parents.

He had believed them and had been fully prepared to followe their expectations.

He had been sorted into Slytherin and if truly all had gone well, he should have been in the superior house of Hogwarts.

To Theodore's utter regret he soon found out that his parents had been wrong.

Slytherin was everything – but the superior house.

Instead of being the superior house without any Muggle influence at all, he found out just minutes after his own sorting, that his parents had been wrong in their assortment of the house.

Theodore had just sat down at the table, when everything he thought to know was turned upside-down by Harry Potter's sorting into Slytherin.

The whole house was stunned into silence at that moment – all but Potter who, after setting the hat back onto the chair it had been seating on at the beginning, came over to their table and sat down right next to Theodore.

"Hi!" Potter said while grinning at everyone else at the table. "Nice to meet you all! I'm Harry from 'Harry and Sally'!"

The purebloods all stared at him with disgust – a gaze that broadened the smile on the new Slytherin's face even more.

It was Malfoy who finally found his voice first.

"What are you doing at our table, Potter?" he hissed and the boy turned to Malfoy to look him up and down.

"Sitting?" he replied in the end with a raised eyebrow. "What else?"

It was Daphne Greengrass who spoke next. "I think Malfoy meant: what are you, a Potter, doing in Slytherin?" she said.

The other boy blinked innocently at her after hearing that.

"I think I didn't have enough of my father's traits," Potter said shrugging. "It's not as if the Potter's shouldn't have been in Slytherin for generations. It's more that the hat maybe feared that, if it continued the tradition with me, Gryffindor would have only one student at the end of the year left: me. I guess it was simply playing it safe."

Blaise Zabini who had sat down after being sorted was just in time to nearly choke after hearing Potter's exclamation.

"You know, Potter, that your family is a well known, light oriented _Gryffindor _family, don't you?" he asked incredulously.

Potter snorted at that.

"Like I said: tradition," he said shrugging. "Potter's have always been Slytherin enough to understand that their image would take a nose-dive if they were actually sorted into their rightful house."

"Oh – if that's so, why are you here?" Pansy Parkinson snarled at that. Potter just raised an eyebrow.

"Because Gryffindor might not survive with me as one of its members?" he repeated incredulous. "Believe me, if it had gone my way, I would have been a Gryffindor… or a Hufflepuff, because, you know, being a Slytherin is kind of boring, don't you think so, too?"

Theodore wasn't the only one who stared at him as if he was mental.

"I'm not quiet sure I can follow," Greengrass finally said hesitatingly and the Potter boy shrugged.

"You know: Been there, done that, bought the t-shirt," he said. "Being in Slytherin is simply nothing… new – and I like to do new things once in a while!"

That was the moment Potter was declared mental by the most of those people who heard him. Theodore would have done the same, if he wouldn't have had his grandfather's voice in his ear, telling him to look at everything from both sides.

Yes, Potter sounded mental at a first evaluation – but if he watched him, maybe he would find out if that was truly all that was to Potter.

Until Potter, Theodore had never understood his grandfather's ramblings and maybe he never truly would have – if the day the corridor in Hogwarts had been plunged into darkness hadn't happened. But the corridor had lost every bit of light after Theodore had been bullied by the Ravenclaws and instead of being the same insane Slytherin that Potter had portrayed until then, Harry Potter, Slytherin first-year, had shown a power to him that no light-born savior should posses.

"Mr. Baron, sir," Theodore said hesitatingly. "I… er… I would like to have some advice…"

At that, the Bloody Baron who had been floating just a few metres away from him turned to look at him. They were in an empty corridor, just the day after the day Theodore had been helped by silver-eyed Harry Potter.

"Ah… young Mr. Nott, it was?" The Bloody Baron said, turning to look at him, his translucent eyes oddly piercing.

"Yes, that's me," Theodore said nervously. "May… may I ask you a question, sir?"

The Bloody Baron considered that, then he nodded.

"You may," he said and Theodore took a deep breath to reassure himself that what he was going to do would be alright.

"Harry Potter," he finally managed to start his inquiry. "I saw his eyes changing into silver. Is he…?"

Before he could even finish his sentence, the Bloody Baron shuddered.

"He must have been truly furious for that to happen," the Baron said, his voice hushed and his eyes suddenly flickering from one dark shadow to the next.

"Er… I guess?"

"There's no guessing in that, child," the Baron said. "You wouldn't have seen the silver in his eyes if he weren't. Those eyes, those silver eyes, are the last thing those see that dare to cross him."

"Well," Theodore said hesitatingly. "It wasn't me he was looking at. It was those Ravenclaws that decided to bully me."

And with that the Baron relaxed again.

"Ah… yes, that would do it, I guess. He could never stand unjust treatment of children."

Theodore just nodded at that.

"He said that as well," he told the Baron, before hesitating. "I truly wasn't wrong, was I? He's able to utilize blood-magic."

The Baron just shook his head at that.

"He isn't simply utilizing blood-magic, young Nott," he corrected Theodore softly. "Blood-magic isn't a tool for him. It is the base of his power, the true strength he hides in his blood. I have seen nearly a thousand years – and yet I have never once see someone else's magic as deeply influenced by blood-magic than his."

Theodore shuddered at that.

"But blood-magic and rituals were declared dark by the Ministry centuries ago!"

The Bloody Baron just nodded.

"They were," he said. "And yet those who truly have an affinity for it have never stopped using it. Just look at the Lovegoods and the Ollivanders. They have never stopped – and if people would truly look at them, no one would ever challenge anybody in those families ever again. Fortunately neither we Lovegoods nor the Ollivanders were ever interested in world domination."

At that the Baron smiled creepily.

"If we were, the world would have been doomed because the only one who could have stopped us always had the habit of befriending us and he always was a loyal friend – even if it meant to go against the world to defend us."

Theodore shuddered at that again and wondered who the Bloody Baron was talking about.

"That sounds as if it happened once," he said nervously and the Bloody Baron shrugged.

"He definitely wasn't above threatening me when I dared to approach my cousin for her daughter's hand in marriage. I bet he would have killed me if he would have been still around when I accidentally killed my cousin's daughter some years later," the Bloody Baron said. "I know for sure that the last one who killed a Lovegood and tried to put the blame elsewhere bled out onto the carpet in the common room of Slytherin. Not a nice way to die, I can tell you."

"I can definitely believe that," Theodore said, feeling cold at just the thought of it.

At that, the Bloody Baron's eyes intensified, his silver eyes piercing Theodore's soul, making him unable to look away again.

"Harry Potter is as deadly as the one who killed the last murderer of a Lovegood," he said. "So, whatever you do, do_ not_ cross him. Go against your own house. Go against the school – if you have to, go against the bloody whole world! But do _not_ cross him if you want to live."

And with that, the Baron nodded at him and turned away, the conversation clearly finished. Theodore shuddered at that.

That was the day he swore to himself to never ever cross Harry James Potter, first-year-student of Slytherin.

Of course, his oath had been pulled into question soon afterwards. It hadn't been too hard to interact with Potter even if he hung around two Gryffindors until the day the Prince forswore the younger boy and made him an outcast of Slytherin house.

Those weeks, Theodore reflected, had been the most horrible weeks of his whole life. Yet, he had held his head high and endured it.

sSs

_Theodore!_

_May I inquire what you are thinking currently? How dare you to go against our allies to ally yourself with a half-blood! I don't care that the half-blood in question is the Potter Heir! I don't care that you dislike the Malfoy Heir and maybe don't want to be on his side! You will crease to tarnish our name by going against our allies and our reputation immediately! If you don't, you will feel my wrath the moment you return home for Christmas!_

_Theodore Nott,_

_Heir Apparent to the Honourable and Noble House of Nott_

sSs

_My beloved grandchild,_

_Various people have talked to me over the last weeks about your behaviour towards the rules of the House of Slytherin. May I inquire why my beloved grandchild decided to break the rules and hierarchy of Slytherin and instead decided to set himself apart from his peers? I know that I taught you to think for yourself, so please explain to your dear old grandfather why you saw the need to shun the whole House of Slytherin? I can't imagine any reason that could lead to a decision like that and I worry about you and your reputation in the House if you continue on your current path. It could influence your reputation negatively if you go against your House as those people made me believe and I fear for you and your future in our society if you are unable to make connections that will benefit you and our family in your future life._

_I am waiting for your explanation._

_Best regards,_

_Your loving grandfather_

sSs

_Dear grandfather,_

_Forgive me for worrying you, but I have a very sound explanation for not following the rules of Slytherin at the moment. The Prince of the House decided to shun a classmate of mine for his comradeship with two Gryffindors. Said classmate also helped me when I was in a dire situation some weeks back, so I naturally declined to shun him after he stepped in when I needed someone in my corner. There's also the fact that he displayed some magic I have only heard about in myths and legends with an ease that made me shudder in fear. I talked to our house-ghost about what I witnessed and he advised me to chose my classmate's corner if there was ever a need to chose. I decided to follow his advice in the matter – even if it means to go against my own House. There are, after all, powers in the world you shouldn't cross even if they aren't currently directed against you._

_Your loving grandson_

_Theodore_

_PS: Today the Prince challenged me to a duel. It was my friend, said Slytherin who I decided to chose over the rest of my house who accepted in my stead. The duel was short. The Prince was the one who lost – and it was a scary loss. I don't think that anyone will ever think about crossing my friend again. I also think that my dispute with Slytherin House ended today. So, don't worry about me, it's all resolved now._

sSs

"Potter!" Theodore called out when he saw the Potter Heir heeding through the halls, obviously on the way somewhere. The other boy stopped and turned to look at him.

"Heir Nott," he greeted Theodore amiable. "You're going somewhere?"

"Ah… I was on the way to send a letter to my grandfather," Theo answered and then frowned at the Potter heir. "What are you up to, Potter?"

The other boy grinned at that.

"Mischief and mayhem – what else?" He replied amused. "You want to come? I'm heeding for the library and then who knows?"

Theo snorted at that and then frowned.

"I don't think that you're truly up to any mischief or mayhem, Potter," he said. "But I wonder what you want in the library today – didn't you borrow some books just yesterday?"

The Potter boy just grinned at that.

"Ah! But I never said I'm going to the library to get some new books!" He said amused. "There are a lot of other things you can do in a library, you know?"

Theodore just frowned at that again.

"What? Like reading?" He asked and raised an eyebrow and the Potter heir laughed.

"Well, that as well," he conceded. "So, you want to come or do you want to send your letter?"

For a moment Theodore looked at his letter and thought about it, then he shrugged and tucked it away.

"I guess the Owlery won't have run away if I decide to go a little bit later," he decided and then fell into step next to the Potter Heir. "Now then, off to the library!"

The Potter Heir rolled his eyes at that in amusement, but followed nevertheless, sing-songing, "to the library! To the library! To the library we go! Go!"

They were still about a floor away from the library when they met Neville.

The Longbottom Heir stopped in surprise at seeing them walking through the empty corridor, the Potter heir still singing the odd little song he started when Theo and he met.

"Well, I guess you haven't reached the library, yet," the Longbottom heir said a little surprised. At that the Potter boy stopped singing to greet the newly arrived boy. "_Mīn hearra,_" he cried. "How nice to meet you in this respectable corridor!"

The Longbottom boy rolled his eyes at that in amusement.

"I'm not quite sure if you can call a simple corridor like that 'respectable'," he said amused, while the Potter boy bowed to him deeply – Theodore recognized surprised the proper bow of a younger heir to an older one or the bow of a lord towards a lady he intended to lead on the dance floor. Theodore guessed that the former meaning had been implied, not the later. "But I'm quite surprised as well to meet you here!"

And with that the Longbottom Heir bowed as well – a proper, even if a little bit awkward answer to the bow of the Potter heir. Said boy grinned, held out his hand and when the confused Longbottom heir took it, started to twirl the other boy.

Maybe Potter truly had meant the later interpretation of the bow…

The Longbottom boy followed the Potter boy's lead for two twirls before he freed himself with an amused snort.

"Very funny, Sa'zu!" He said. "Ha ha!"

The Potter boy grinned at that and then squeezed the other boy's shoulder.

"Don't worry about that, you're not the first who fell for it!" He said snickering. "I love to do that to Gryffindors!"

Longbottom just rolled his eyes and then acted as if he wanted to hit the Potter boy on the head. Said boy ducked and it started a run through the corridor with the Potter boy fleeing and the Longbottom Heir chasing.

Theodore rolled his eyes.

"And I thought we were too old for children's games like that!" He said amused. At that Potter stopped and looked at him betrayed.

"I'll never be to old for that!" He cried. "Even if I'm reborn for another thousand years – I will never crease to play!"

Theodore raised an eyebrow at that.

"Definitely," he drawled amused. "I wonder what the rest of Slytherin House would say if they saw you playing tack after basically dethroning the Prince of Slytherin!"

At that the Longbottom Heir stopped and raised an eyebrow at the Potter boy before turning to look at Theodore.

"What do you mean 'dethroning the Prince of Slytherin'?" He asked, half-confused and half-suspicious.

Theodore just shrugged.

"Slytherin politics," he said. "Don't worry, doesn't concern you."

"That's not what I asked," Longbottom replied but before Theodore could give another vague answer, Potter answered himself.

"I was forced to teach that child a lesson," he said darkly and then turned to Theodore. "And I didn't dethrone him. I just showed him his true place in Slytherin hierarchy. I'm not planning on ever taking on the title of 'Prince'."

Theodore just raised an eyebrow at that.

"You won't be able to refuse it," he said. "It was a challenge for the headship of Slytherin and you won – you are the Prince now, if you want to be it or not."

At that Potter just shrugged.

"I was always above the Prince – if he knew it or not," he said. "So nothing changed, except that now everybody knows what you have known for weeks now."

Theodore inwardly groaned at that and wondered if Potter truly had no idea about the integrated rules of Slytherin or if the other boy was deliberately thick-headed about them. Then Theodore remembered the seating at the table at meals and he sighed. The boy knew exactly what he was doing – so why did he refuse Theodore's words that he was now the student head of Slytherin?

In the end, Theodore decided to let it be. There were other battles more worthy to fight than this one. Potter would soon learn that his status had changed – if he wanted it or not.

Longbottom who had just listened to their short argument piped up in that moment, "so, you basically fought the Prince of Slytherin whoever he is and won – right? And now you are the Prince, at least according to Theodore?"

And Theo wondered when Longbottom had started to use his first name.

"Basically right," Potter said. "But it was a lot more complicated."

Longbottom frowned at that, but in the end just nodded.

"Alright," he said. "Now – library?"

"Sure, _mīn hearra,_" the Potter boy replied. "I wonder if Miss Hermione is there…"

"I'm quite sure she is," Longbottom said. "She wasn't in the tower and the library is the only other place she's in her free time – at least according to the previous months."

"Well, then let's go to Miss Hermione!" Potter said amused and then started to dance down the corridor. Longbottom and Theodore followed him like little ducklings.

It was half way down the next corridor when Longbottom spoke up again.

"Ah! I just remembered!" He said before hurrying towards Potter and stopping him. "Sa'zu, I've got a message for you!"

Potter stopped and raised an eyebrow.

"A message?" He asked. "From whom?"

"Peeves," Neville said and Potter's eyes widened.

"I didn't do anything to the infirmary!" He denied at once. Longbottom blinked in surprise at that.

"Er… well, that was part of the message," he said, rubbing his head surprised. "But Peeves also told me to tell you that he wants some biscuits. He said you knew which ones."

At that Potter raised his eyebrows.

"She's asking me for biscuits? Truly?!" He said amused. "She hasn't even come to visit me and still decides to ask for biscuits?"

And then he laughed, loud and hard and joyful.

"Alright, alright," he finally gasped. "Biscuits! I get it. I promise I'm going to the kitchen as soon as I'm done in the library."

Longbottom's eyes widened at that.

"Wait, Sa'zu! You know what Peeves was talking about?" He asked with disbelieve in his voice and Potter smirked.

"Of course I do," he said grinning. "Didn't Peevesie tell you that I would?"

For a moment Longbottom looked at Potter with an open mouth and Theodore had the odd feeling that he was missing something important in their conversation. He just couldn't think of what he was missing.

"But…!" Then the Longbottom heir stopped again, seemingly unable to continue with his objection.

Potter smirked at that.

"I told you there was a reason why I was sorted into Slytherin," he said grinning, then he stopped and pouted. "Except of the obvious one that neither Gryffindor nor Hufflepuff House would have survived a year with me as its member."

At that the Longbottom heir choked on his tongue.

"I believe that," he pressed out hoarsely when he finally could speak again. "I truly, truly believe that!"

And with that Potter shrugged, grinned and then was off into the library, his hand traveling along the bookshelves as if he needed it to guide him the way.

"Now… where has Miss Hermione hidden away this time around?" Potter singsonged, one finger tapping at a book before moving on. He surrounded the first bookshelf, then the second, and soon he had skipped through the whole library except of the Restricted Section on his search for the missing girl.

In the end they found her hidden away in the history section, writing her essay for History of Magic.

"Miss Hermione!" Potter cried in joy. "How wonderful to meet you here on this splendid day!"

The girl in question looked up at that for a moment, rolled her eyes and pulled out a chair for Potter to sit in.

"Sit down and shut up, Harry, until I'm done with this paragraph," she said in the way of greeting. Potter just smiled and then sat down and pulled out his own books.

"How about I'm working on some stuff until you're done," he said and gestured to the rest of the chairs. "You're going to sit down as well, Heir Nott, _mīn hearra?"_

"Er… sure," Longbottom said and Theodore followed his example when the younger boy pulled out his potion's essay and started on it.

In the end, Theodore spent his afternoon in the library before sending the letter to his grandfather.

sSsSsSs

The next day, Neville ran into Peeves when he was on his way to the library to do his homework.

Peeves was lingering in the corridor of the library, watching in amusement the different teachers and students who ran in and out of the library with different books in their hands and confusion in their eyes.

Neville stopped and then followed the cackling Peeves gaze before turning towards the poltergeist again.

"What did you do this time around, Peeves?" He asked, half-exasperated, half-amused. The poltergeist just cackled louder.

"Peevesie didn't do anything," the spectre said. "Peevesie is just watching the deed of a master, yes she is!"

Neville blinked at that and then crooked his head.

"What do you mean, 'you're just watching the deed of a master'?"

At that, Peeves started to cackle even more.

"But weren't you there, sapling?" he crowed. "He said you were there when he sat it up!"

Neville frowned at that.

"Who said what?" he asked confused, but before Peeves could answer, Mrs. Norris came around the corner. The cat stopped when she had full view of the library and the people running in and out as if it was on fire and the books needed to be rescued.

Then the cat meowed. It sounded desperate, like a cat dying and calling out with its last breath for help.

Peeves cackled even more.

"Ah… don't you like the show, my dear?" Peeves crowed before grinning evilly at the cat. "I, for my part, love it. And he promised that my infirmary would stay safe from him in the near future…"

The answer was another desperate yowl from the cat, then the cat lounged forward towards the library and the running people.

Neville watched it reaching the door, just to bounce of an invisible wall. The moment the cat hit the wall, the scene changed.

A blinding white light made Neville close his eyes and when he opened them again, chains of black and golden letters started to flow out of the library, dancing along the corridor, hitting the walls and leaving different kind of sentences on them.

"There are more than a thousand different kinds of dragons around the world," one wall suddenly proclaimed in blue and green letters. Another one added in red and yellow, "broom handles should be regularly polished and waxed to ensure that they are always in predestine condition."

Then the first chain of letters hit one of the people who still ran in and out of the library and suddenly the Rawenclaw student's back proclaimed, "one of the most important inventions of muggles is the battery."

Neville blinked at that and then turned to Peeves.

"What exactly happened to the library?" he finally decided to ask. The poltergeist shrugged.

"Ah, you know, sapling, the usual," he said while grinning widely. "Books fleeing the shelves, letters fleeing the books and in the middle a pile of books loudly reading themselves aloud. You see, the library is still like it should be!"

"Yeah, definitively," Neville said dryly while watching the meowing Mrs. Norris pacing in front of the library, her eyes never leaving the chaos in it. She looked heart-shattering desperate and was covered in different kind of sentences already.

"Don't worry too much, _mīn hearra,"_ another voice said in that moment amused. "It should stop in about ten minutes and then you should be able to enter the library again without any troubles."

Neville turned around, his eyes huge with surprise.

There, at the opposite wall, leaned Salazar Potter, looking as if he wasn't bothered at all by the display just the corridor down. He had two packages of biscuits in his left hand, balancing the upper one on the other and was grinning widely.

It was then that Neville remembered Salazar's finger traveling along the shelves of the library yesterday.

"_Because Salazar doesn't like bullying. No, he doesn't, not at all!"_ Peeves answered him when he had first talked to the poltergeist. _"And Peevesie aims to be a good replacement for him! Yes, he does, totally!"_

Back then, Neville had thought that the poltergeist was mad – but now, looking at the library and then at Salazar Potter's face he considered that Peeves had been right all along…

Salazar Potter was a prankster.

No, Salazar _Slytherin_ was a prankster – and a damn good one if all the unaccounted pranks this year were part of his doings…

"You were the one that hexed the library," he whispered amazed. "You did it yesterday when we were looking for Hermione!"

Salazar just grinned at that evilly.

"I didn't hex the library," he said. "R'ena forbid me to do it."

"Then…"

"I jinxed it," Salazar said and his grin widened. "She never said something about jinxing."

Peeves snorted at that and then reached out and cuffed Salazar around the head.

"Be happy that I'm currently on war path against R'ena," Peeves said. "Or I would have penalized you for your pranks!"

Salazar pouted at that.

"You're not my mother, Peevesie!" He objected.

"Thank gods I'm not," Peeves answered. "I would have gone mad long before I did if that would have been the case. But someone has to monitor you – and I was the best bet, and you know it!"

The smirk of Peeves deepened at that and Salazar grimaced.

"Don't remind me," he said and then held out one of the packages of biscuits.

"Peace-offering?" he said with a hopeful note in his voice.

Peeves' eyes zeroed in onto the biscuits.

"Your special ones?" he asked interested.

"Yep, fresh from the oven," Salazar answered grinning.

For a moment the poltergeist seemed to be conflicted, then he sighed and reached out for the package.

"Alright, I guess you won, you sly bastard!" He crowed and opened the package to pull out a biscuit. He bit in it and for a moment the poltergeist stopped being an ethereal being and looked as solid as Neville - solid and definitely female. The poltergeist chewed, moaned and swallowed before losing his - or her? Neville was confused - solid look again.

"Oh… how I missed them!" the spectre sighed. "They're still heaven on earth!"

Salazar snorted at that but held out the other package to Neville.

"I'm not a bastard," he said to Peeves. "My parents were married."

Peeves just grinned at that.

"Yes," the poltergeist said. "This time around!"

Salazar rolled his eyes and the shook the package in front of Neville's face.

"Here, for you," he said and Neville took them hesitatingly.

"They're not… hexed, are they?" he asked suspiciously. At that Peeves snorted.

"No," the poltergeist said. "You have to watch out for everything if you are interacting with Salazar – but his biscuits. He never does anything to them."

Neville frowned at that.

"Why?"

The answer was a grin from the prankster.

"Because I am the only one who can bake them – it would automatically mark me as the prankster," he answered and waved. "Have fun working on your essay, _mīn hearra!"_

Then he turned to Peeves.

"Tell R'ena that I have some biscuits for her when she's done sulking," he told the spectre. And with that he was off again.

Neville hesitated another moment before opening the package and taking a biscuit. He bit in it and moaned in daylight.

It wasn't chocolate, but it was sweet, creamy and tasted of different kinds of English fruits. It was heaven on earth.

"Damn, I hope he's baking those often," he moaned when he took another bite. Peeves just snorted.

"Believe me, we always beg for more – the only one who doesn't is Godric and that's because he's currently unable to digest them. He will be jealous of us all for the rest of the week!"

That was the moment the spell on the library finally stopped – or at least stopped half way. The books seemed to have stopped running and the people stopped running after them and instead carried them back into the library. The books inside stopped speaking. Only the letters still crept along the walls and slithered down the corridors.

Neville waited for another moment or two before he approached the library doors.

The inside looked as if everything was back to normal.

Neville ignored when a letter chain spelled, "Now steer three times against the clock before adding the fluxweed," onto his ropes in neon green and entered the library fully.

Yes, it seemed as if it was safe again.

He sat down at one of the tables and pulled out his essay before standing up to search for the potion's book he had used yesterday.

Before he could even walk a step, he had to duck.

A book had shot from one of the shelves and nearly smacked him on the head. Neville eyed it wide-eyed, but the book just turned in midair and landed on the table in front of Neville's essay.

It took another second or two to recognize the now purple book as the one Neville had used yesterday. The title was written backwards and danced across the cover, but all in all – if you forgot that the once brown book was now purple and the title was backwards – it was the same book.

Neville hesitatingly opened the book.

The inside was written in the colours of the rainbow and there were doodles added next to the steps for the potion, like an exploding cauldron and a stirrer whirling around itself, but all in all it was still readable. Neville searched the right page, just to watch the letters and sentences one by one copying itself on his fingers before starting to creep up his arms.

Neville raised his sleeve on his left arm to watch the colourful letters wiggling itself joyfully up his skin towards his shoulder.

Where he had touched his sleeve, the letters from his skin had spread on it and were now also creeping up his robes.

"Huh?" Neville said before looking back at the book which raised a sheet and winked at him as joyfully as the letters.

Hermione wouldn't be happy when she found out…

Then Neville's eyes traveled to Mrs. Norris who was prowling around the library, looking at each rainbow coloured book – and the whole library was coloured in different colours now – as if she wanted to turn them back to their original colour by just staring at them.

It seemed that the cat wasn't happy – but then, it was Filch's cat. It was never happy…

So Neville looked back at his essay just to see that his own ink had turned into different shades of the rainbow as well. Even his parchment looked as if it was just a second away from turning orange.

Neville blinked again, then he shrugged and returned his attention to the sentences that crept up his arms. They were all potion-related. Every sentence he had touched or his fingers had been near had copied itself on his skin and was now joyfully spewing out other, related sentences to cover him further.

Neville shrugged again at that discovery.

"At least it fits to the sentence I've already on my back," he decided and then returned back to his homework. "And maybe I will remember it better when I'm basically wearing the receipt."

**sSs**

xXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxSortingxXxHatxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXx

**sSs**

_**Explanation:**_

_mīn hearra_ – my lord

**sSs**

_So, that's it for today._

_Sorry that it took so long. Final year in collage and some such. As it is, I'm happy I found time to finally update. I definitely hate real life TT._

_Well, 'till next time._

_Ebenbild_


	10. Chapter 10

_**Disclaimer:**__ HP does not belong to me, just the idea I used on the characters… all recognizable things are Rowlings_

_**Information:**__ AU-Sorting, takes place in HP1. Reincarnation-fic!_

xXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxSortingxXxHatxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXx

**sSs**

**WHY TO SORT A STUDENT IS A HORRIBLE JOB**

**A TEACHER'S CASE – THE BEGINNING**

**sSs**

"Welcome to our first staff meeting of this new school year," Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore intoned while the last of the teachers entered the staff room.

"Please sit down. We'll begin with our new first years before going on to…"

"Oh, stuff it, Albus," Pomona Sprout said huffing. "Everyone of us knows that this meeting will be mainly about the Potter child!"

Albus opened his mouth to object but Minerva butted in before he could even say a word.

"And of course about the pranks plaguing Hogwarts since the beginning of the year," she added to Pomona's sentence.

Snape huffed at that.

"If I didn't know that Potter is a dunderhead I would think that it was him doing them!" he declared fuming. It was just a day ago that the prank on his classroom finally lifted itself and he was still cross about it.

"Severus!" Minerva admonished him instantly. "Mr. Potter is an eleven year old child! There's no way that –"

"Like I said, Minerva," Snape sneered. "If I didn't know that Potter would be far too lazy to do research in a magnitude like that, I'd say it was him. Since I know he's far too lazy, I'd recommend we punish the Weasley-brats like we should have done after the first prank this year!"

"It isn't them, this time around," Minerva said sighing.

"Of course its them!" Snape sneered. "They're just lying in your face, Minerva!"

"What do you mean 'it isn't them', Minerva?" Filius Flitwick asked at the same time. The Deputy Headmistress sighed.

"I spoke to them," she said. "In the end, they confessed that it wasn't them but that they would love to… work… with this new prankster…"

"They're lying!" Snape repeated.

Pomona frowned at that.

"Neither one of the twins ever lied when they were caught pranking," she said frowning. "They always confessed."

"There's always a first time," Snape answered coolly.

"The pranking style is different as well," Flitwick said.

Snape's eyes widened at that.

"Pranking style?" He spluttered at that. "Pranking _style_?!"

Flitwick nodded earnestly.

"Yes, Severus," he said. "The Weasely twins normally prank one or two students – not the whole school at once. They also don't prank the professors."

"And just because they're doing something different this time around you don't think it's them, Filius?" Snape sneered. "No wonder you're always unable to catch those pranksters…!"

"Severus, please!" Albus finally reentered the conversation. "There's no evidence…"

"There's never any evidence, Headmaster," Snape sneered. "That doesn't change the fact that it's them! Have you ever thought that maybe their… _style_… changed thanks to Potter entering into their little club? I'm quite sure that Potter is quite able to create havoc like that with all his little Gryffindor friends –"

"Severus! He is a first year!" Minerva objected.

"And he is a charming boy who has until now never created any trouble," Pomona Sprout added.

Snape looked at her as if she had gone insane.

"Potter," he said slowly. "Was responsible for the tap-dancing troll that nearly killed Ms. Granger on Hallowe'en!"

"I'm quite sure that it wasn't Harry who made it possible for the troll to enter the school back then," Albus sighed.

Snape looked wide-eyed from one frowning face in front of him to the other.

"Have you forgotten who you're dealing with?" he asked them in the end, sounding nearly desperate that time. "This is Potter we are talking about! Potter! Think about that little cretin's irresponsible father! The arrogant boy thinks he's the boy wonder of Gryffindor! A gift to all wizard kind! Letting in a troll to fight it is exactly what Potter would do! He wasn't even at the feast!"

There was a short bout of silence after his out-burst, then Filius Flitwick spoke up hesitatingly.

"Severus," he said. "Mr. Potter was at the feast."

Snape opened his mouth to object the charms master when Pomona Sprout added her own observation.

"Severus," she said. "Mr. Potter is a Slytherin. He was sitting with his_ House _at the Hallowe'en feast…"

Snape closed his mouth at that, unable to object her.

_Slytherin._

_The boy was a Slytherin._

Somehow this part of Potter still wouldn't stick in Snape's mind. He could deal with a lot of things, but thinking about that damn boy as a Slytherin – this was something he simply wasn't able to do.

"That brat doesn't belong in my House," he finally huffed and when he saw the concerned glances of the other professors he sighed. "I know that he's wearing green and silver," he amended with gritted teeth. "But that doesn't change the fact that Mr. Potter has clearly been miss-sorted."

Albus' eyes started to twinkle at that.

"You're right, Severus," he said. "I'm quite sure that Mr. Potter shouldn't have been sorted in your House with a personality like his."

Filius Flitwick frowned at that.

"I'm not quite sure if I can follow, Headmaster," he said. "Mr. Potter _has_ been sorted into Slytherin…"

"Yes, he has been," Albus answered softly smiling. "But I'm quite sure that no one here can make out any trait of Slytherin in Mr. Potter's behaviour. I watched him myself for quite a while and I haven't found any indication in his personality that would make him a Slytherin until now…"

Snape sneered at that.

"Of course you wouldn't," he said scratchily. "This is_ Potter_ we're talking about! There's no way a Potter would ever have the ability to act like a proper Slytherin!"

"And yet he was sorted into the House of the cunning," Pomona Sprout reminded them softly.

"M…maybe h…he w…was r…really miss… miss-sorted?" The DADA teacher, Quirinus Quirrell spoke up the first time. "I… is th…this po…possible, Hea… Headmaster?"

Albus frowned at that and patted his beard.

"It's unheard of," he said. "But then, the Sorting Head seemed a little bit out of it while sorting him…"

"Albus!" Minerva spoke up at that moment. "You can't tell us that you think the Sorting Hat made a mistake!"

"Well, Minerva, my dear," he sighed. "You can't forget that the Sorting Hat is a relict of the Founders' time. Maybe the enchantment on it is waning after such a long time?"

"I don't think that that's the case, Headmaster," Filius Flitwick spoke up. "I'm quite sure that Mr. Potter is in the House he truly belongs…"

The Headmaster just shook his head at that before finally changing the subject to other themes.

Filius Flitwick just frowned at the Headmaster at that, but decided to not speak up again.

After the staff meeting he returned to his office where a cat was sitting on the top of his desk. Filius looked at the cat for a moment, before closing the door and activating the wards on his office so that no one could hear anything going on inside from the outside.

"There's more to it than a few pranks and an old Sorting Hat, isn't it?" he asked the empty room.

The answer was a laugh.

"You have no idea, Filius," a female voice said. "You have absolutely no idea. He's back! He's finally back! And instead of apologizing the only thing I get is mayhem in the library and biscuits!"

"And yet you're here, crying and dancing at the same time," the half-goblin observed.

The answer was a laugh.

"Because he's back!" the female voice said. "Because he's finally back! He's back and that means he has truly never left us in the first place!"

Filius Flitwick just shook his head and righted one of the photos of the pranks over the last months on his desk.

"Who exactly are you talking about anyway?" He asked, half-amused, half-exasperated.

The answer was a brilliant laugh and then he was enveloped in a hug.

"I'm talking about _him_, silly!" She snickered. "Who else should I be talking about?"

And with that, Filius had to rescue the next photo in danger of careless destruction.

Never mind that he didn't get an answer he could truly understand…

sSsSsSs

"You know," one twin said to another. "I wonder if this thing can malfunction…"

The other twin frowned at that.

"It hasn't malfunctioned in the last two years we had it," he said frowning.

The first twin nodded at that in contemplation.

"At least I never saw it malfunctioning," the other twin added, still with a frown on his face.

"I never saw it as well," the first one contemplated. "But that doesn't change the fact that there's something odd going on with it now –"

"You mean like it showing names unclearly?" the second twin asked.

"Or names flickering in and out of existence?" the first one added.

Then the two looked at each other.

"Now…," the first one said, an evil looking grin spreading over his face.

"Is it truly malfunctioning?" the second one said with a matching grin.

"Or is there something else going on here at Hogwarts?" The first one said.

"Maybe," the second one added. "Maybe we should search out one of those names and ask them themselves…"

At that, the twins grinned at each other before leaving the tower in search of one of the odd names they had stumbled on while looking over their favourite toy.

_Helga Hufflepuff_ was their goal.

_Helga Hufflepuff_ – because _Rowena Ravenclaw_ was currently in a place the twins couldn't enter undetected.

sSsSsSs

"Didn't you want to prank the whole school at Hallowe'en?" The Sorting Hat asked the boy in front of it interested. "You know – Hallowe'en was three days ago…"

The boy just rolled his eyes.

"I know," he said. "I know, Godric, I know."

"Then why…?"

"I was preoccupied with the troll that day," the boy answered and rolled his eyes at the hat while folding his legs in a different way beneath him so that he wasn't kneeling anymore but sitting cross legged on the cool stones of the floor.

"And yet, except of the library you didn't do another prank since then," Godric said.

At that, the boy sighed.

"I didn't," he said.

"Why?"

The boy shrugged and pulled out his knife to play with it.

"There's no answer to that question, _gúþwine,_" he said.

The Sorting Hat snorted at that and it would have rolled its eyes if it had any, that is.

"I've lived with you for over a hundred years, Sa'zu," it said. "There aren't a lot of reasons for you to not do something you planned to do – and a lot less for not making up to it later on if you hadn't had time to do it like you planned."

The boy shrugged at that.

"I wasn't in the mood to do anything," he said, indifferently and suddenly, the Sorting Hat was worried.

"Sa'zár," it said softly. "Why weren't you in the mood to do anything?"

The knife in the boy's hand flew through the air and was caught at the tip by the child before sailing through the air again in a macabre jiggle of trained hands and a dangerously sharp blade. If Godric wouldn't know that Salazar had always done that and had never hurt himself while doing it, he would have feared for the will to live of the boy playing with the blade.

The boy said nothing.

"Salazar," the Hat said softly. "It's three days after Hallowe'en. What happened that you sit here, not contemplating a prank but thinking about… who knows what?"

At that, weary eyes looked up to look at the Hat on the wet floor.

"Did you know that since _that_ day… since _that_ one day… I tried everything, everything I could think of, and yet, it was never enough?" The boy whispered, looking back down at the floor, studying its dark stones while playing with his knife.

The Sorting Hat frowned at its friend at that.

_Never enough?!_

"Sa'zu," it finally said. "We never blamed you."

At that the boy looked up again, his eyes bitter and old.

"You should, Godric, you should," he said.

"Why? It wasn't your fault…"

"I cast the wards, Godric! I am the one who cast the blood-magic to hide Hogwarts! I! Not Helga! Not R'ena! Not you! _I_! I was a ward master, a ward _smith_! One of the only two in the whole known world back then! I knew the dangers! I knew the potential consequences…!"

"And you told us the risk and we trusted you to get it right!" Godric interrupted the boy in front of him. "We trusted you, Salazar Taliesin Haraldr Iacomus Potter-Slytherin! We. Trusted. You!"

"Yes! Yes, you did! And you suffered for it! I betrayed your trust and…"

"The only time I remember you betraying our trust was the day you left and never returned," the Sorting Hat interrupted him coolly. "Not one of us ever blamed you for forcing us to remain – we only blamed you for leaving us alone in our task…"

At the confused expression on the boy's face, the Hat sighed.

"Salazar," it said. "The wards in this place are different than all the other wards I have ever seen – whatever you constructed here, there was no way of knowing what would happen…"

At that, the confusion on the boy's face crumbled into agony.

"But that's it, Godric," he whispered. "That's it. I knew! I knew – and that's why I left you… I thought that if I left, the cursed wards would spare you… and yet, here you are; suffering because of me!"

Then he broke down crying his heart out on the cold, wet stone floor of the hidden, dreary and dark Chamber in the heart of Hogwarts.

It was the first time in centuries that Godric longed for his hands – just to be able to embrace the crying child that was once his best friend. As it was, he could only sit there and watch, stuck in a form he suddenly hated with renewed passion.

And like that he sat there, unable to do anything but fill the silence of the dreary Chamber of Secrets with meaningless words while a man he had ever only known as a fun loving prankster or ruthless dark lord showed a human side of himself Godric had never wanted to see, breaking down in grieve for a deed he had done to safe them all while damning them at the same time…

**sSs**

xXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxSortingxXxHatxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXx

**sSs**

_**Explanation:**_

_gúþwine - old English for 'Comrade in war'_

**sSs**

_So, that's it for today._

_Sorry that it took so long. I was in Japan for a while – I loved the country! – and couldn't write while being there._

_Well, 'till next time._

_Ebenbild_

_PS: I'm working on 'Basilisk-born'! I promise! It's a lot more complex than this story! So please no begging about that story here – I'm writing as fast as I can! T.T_


	11. Chapter 11

_**Disclaimer:**__ HP does not belong to me, just the idea I used on the characters… all recognizable things are Rowlings_

_**Information:**__ AU-Sorting, takes place in HP1. Reincarnation-fic!_

_**sSs**_

_**RANT:**_

_**My dear guest reader 'SortingHat'**__,_

_I have absolutely no idea what you were thinking while writing the review you did, but actually accusing me __of __being __**drunk **__while __writing __my __stories is definitely going too far. It's '__**unter aller Kanone**__', like we say in my home country. Basically, it's slander of my person – a person __**you **__have __**never**__ met and __**will never**__ meet. To think that you still __**believe**__ to be able to __**draw conclusions**__ of my person by simply reading my story, is __**ARROGANT**__. To then __**accuse me **__to __**drive drunk**__ as well __**takes the cake**__. _

_I'm quite aware that you might have felt a little bit __**intimidated **__by a person who manages to write a story in a different language than their own while you're __**seemingly still stuck**__ on figuring out how to work the __**return button**__, but please, the next time simply shut off the internet and start afresh before writing such __**nonsense as a review**__ to someone who has__** never been drunk in their whole life**__._

_Thank you!_

_**With all my sarcasm**__,_

_Ebenbild._

_**sSs**_

_**To the rest of my readers:**_

_I'm __**sorry **__that I had to start this story with a note like that. I think that I am a very tolerant person who is able to listen to critique without reacting badly to it, but some things go too far._

_Anyway, __**for the rest of you **__(since I never have time to answer the most of your reviews via PM): __**THANK YOU**__ for your reviews! I saw some pretty good guesses in there and I always __**love to read **__your opinion on my story/ chapters! _

_Also thank you to '__**Guest**__' who decided to __**point out my short comings**__ (yeah, definitely the loneliest goat of all, poor scrap-goat – I always forget to finally change it into scapegoat when I update… xDDD And of course Luna is a Seer – how else did she manage to sit there and watch the pranks in Harry's first year?! Er, no, I simply took a prank planned for second year and integrated it into the first while forgetting to erase Luna's name… xDD)._

_To all that send me __**ideas**__ for pranks: __**THANK YOU VERY MUCH!**_

_And __now __on __with __the __story…_

_Ebenbild out._

xXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxSortingxXxHatxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXx

**sSs**

**WHY TO SORT A STUDENT IS A HORRIBLE JOB**

**A TEACHER'S CASE – THE CONTINUATION**

**sSs**

"Peeves!" Pomona Sprout could only stare at poltergeist that had entered her office backwards. The 'geist stopped and turned to face her, a sheepish grin on his face.

"Sproutie!" He greeted her with some fake-enthusiasm. "You don't mind me hiding out here for at least a few minutes, do you, my dear Head of Hufflepuff?"

Pomona narrowed her eyes at that.

_What had Peeves done that he needed to hide out now?!_

"Peeves! What did you do?!" She asked while taking on the firmest voice she was capable of – which didn't mean much since she was a very mild mannered professor.

Peeves pouted at that.

"Peevesie didn't do anything!" The poltergeist defended himself. "Peevesie is not guilty of anything Sproutie is accusing Peevesie of!"

Pomona's frown just deepened at that.

"If that's so, why are you hiding?" She asked still as sternly as she could.

The poltergeist pouted even more at that.

"The chaos Weazy's are stalking Peevesie! Peevesie doesn't like to be stalked, so Peevesie decided to hide!" Peeves explained, sounding oddly confused as if he didn't know what to make of the Weasley twins odd behaviour.

Pomona blinked surprised.

"The Weasley twins are stalking you?" She repeated in disbelief. "Why?"

Peeves looked at her as if she had lost her mind at that.

"Peevesie doesn't know," Peeves replied. "Peevesie did the sensible thing and fled."

Surprisingly Pomona could only concede that point. If the Weasley twins started stalking you, it was definitely the sanest option to turn the other way and run without waiting for an explanation. That Peeves had done the only sane thing to do in a situation like that on the other hand was something that sounded strange in Pomona's ears. She had never considered Peeves utterly sane.

"I… guess I understand," she finally said. Peeves nodded at that.

"I thought as much," the poltergeist said, sounding surprisingly serious for once.

"I just don't understand why you chose my office to hide…"

At that, the poltergeist rolled his eyes.

"Because even the Weasley twins think twice about entering a professor's office – especially if they're in there," Peeves explained with a huff. "And if you hadn't been in there, then the defences of the office would have kicked in and they would have been unable to enter as well, Pomona."

Pomona gawked.

_That sounded absolutely nothing like Peeves_. A second later the Peeves she had known for all her time at Hogwarts returned.

"And Peevesie loves to watch a good pranking!" Peeves added while grinning broadly. "Sproutie's defences are the best pranking ones in school!"

Pomona frowned at the second part added to Peeves' speech.

"What do you mean, my defences are the best pranking ones at school?" She asked suspiciously. She hadn't even known that her office had any kinds of defences, nevertheless 'pranking ones'.

Peeves' grin broadened at that.

"They were done by the best prankster ever walking the halls of Hogwarts!" Peeves grinned. "Isn't it a fantastic thought to know that your office is absolutely safe in your absence – even from noisy students or headmasters, Sproutie?"

Pomona wasn't quite sure how to answer that exclamation…

"I'm not quite sure if I should feel happy to know that my door has been hexed by some prankster," she finally said. "It's not really practical if a student tries to find me here when I'm not in the office."

The answer was a shrug.

"As long as they just knock and don't try to force their way in, nothing will happen," Peeves said, looking sad while having to admit that. "They only get hexed if they try to force their way in." At that, Peeves pouted.

Pomona blinked. All in all it sounded better than she had thought it was, but that didn't mean that she liked it more.

"Still," she said. "I guess I will have to ask the Headmaster to look it over and remove it."

Peeves face lit up with a grin at that.

"Please do!" Peeves said. "And call Peevesie to watch! Peevesie likes some entertainment as well!"

Pomona stared at the poltergeist surprised.

"And if you're at it, you can also send the Headmaster to un-curse the other Heads' offices! This will be fun!" Peeves added while looking at Pomona in adoration. "Now Peevesie knows why Pomona has been chosen as the Head of Hufflepuff! She's exactly like a proper Head of Hufflepuff should be – unlike that poor choice of a Slytherin Head of House!"

Pomona couldn't help but snort in amusement at that.

"I'm not quite sure how exactly you are the best to judge what a proper Head of House Hufflepuff should be like," she said amused. She had never thought that the poltergeist was judging the abilities of a Head of House on their ability to prank people, but then, she should have guessed. Peeves was a poltergeist – what else should he thrive on than chaos, pranks and mayhem.

Peeves blinked at that. Then his face gained a contemplating look.

"If you don't tell anyone, I'll tell you," Peeves finally decided, a mischief grin on his face. "So, what do you say?"

sSsSsSs

"Sometimes I wonder about our map," Fred said confused.

George snorted.

"You're not the only one," he said.

They had been trying to find _Helga Hufflepuff _for a while now, but the damn dot had wandered into a place they couldn't follow, so in the end they had given up for the moment and had planned to return to Gryffindor Tower and try it again later – just to stumble across the words _Salazar Slytherin _and _Godric Gryffindor _in the middle of the hallway.

Fred looked down at the map, then looked up again.

Then George took the map from him and did the same.

They exchanged a glance.

Nope, everything was still the same.

The boy in front of them looked at them unimpressed, one eyebrow raised, his cap next to him on the balustrade.

"Done enough gawking now, _mīn hearran_?" Harry Potter asked them finally after five minutes when the twins still hadn't been able to do anything more than to stare open-mouthed at him and the cap next to him before staring at the map in their hands, the map changing hands after every look they took.

That was the cue for the first twin to finally speak up.

"I think," he said.

"That either something," the other one added.

"Is seriously wrong –"

"With our map –"

"Or that something's gone wrong in history –"

"And Salazar Slytherin –"

"And Godric Gryffindor –"

"Weren't arch-enemies after all –"

"But instead decided to travel in time –"

"To haunt our school as a first year –"

"And his cap…"

The boy in front of them just raised an unimpressed eyebrow before turning to Godric.

"Sseems like even going around and announcing my name doesn't truly blow my cover, _gúþwine_," he said dryly. "One could think that after two months of me insisting to be called Salazar at least one of them would have caught on! No, they need a magical map woven into my wards to identify me as the person I've insisted to be all along!"

"Don't look at me like that," the cap replied. "I've been introducing myself as Godric to every Gryffindor Head of House and every Headmaster for the last thousand years without any one of them ever believing me. 'I know you're Godric's Hat' they say. 'I'm aware that Godric made you,' the say. 'But you're not the true Godric, just something left by him,' they _explain _to me! As if I wouldn't be the one who should know better! Gods! Helga gave up introducing herself sometime in the fifteen hundreds because nobody ever believed her! The only Headmasters that ever believed me were those who had been Head of House Ravenclaw before taking up the Headmaster's post! For whatever reason the only ones who believe that we still exist are the Heads of House of the one House that is based on _logic _and _explanations _of all things! So don't fret, it's not as if anyone has put together two and two before and recognised us! Gods, even the current Headmaster didn't believe me and he believed into the myth of the Deathly Hallows without having any kind of proof for years!"

The boy thought that over.

"Point," he said and then turned to Fred and George Weasley.

"So," one of them said

"You're truly," the other one said.

"Salazar and Godric," Harry ended their sentence. "Yes."

Then he gestured to the map.

"And now let me take a look at that, _mīn hearran_," he added.

Both twins frowned at that.

"Why?" One of them asked suspiciously.

"Because if you don't, I liberate the wards from the nifty spell that makes it function like it does."

"Why?!" The twins cried.

"Because I won't tolerate a spell like that in the wards if it can cause harm to the rest of the student population in any way or form, _ágitaþ_?!" Harry replied icily and the twins could suddenly see how the first year could have once been the most feared dark lord in history.

The hat snorted at that.

The boy turned to look at the hat when he heard the noise.

"I meant it, Godric," he said, his eyes cold. The hat stopped laughing instantly.

"Gods, you do!" It exclaimed, before speaking to the Weasley twins. "Give him the map. Now!"

Fred and George exchanged another look, but finally handed over their treasure reluctantly.

The moment Harry had it in his hands, it lit up in different colours.

"What -?" George exclaimed surprised.

"He's a ward's master," the hat answered the unasked question. "Finding out the spells placed on something is child's play for him."

Harry snorted at that.

"I'm a ward's _smith, __gúþwine_," he corrected the hat. "Finding out the spells on this is far easier than child's play for me!"

The hat snorted.

"Sorry, Sa'zu," it said. "I will endeavour to remember for the next time I have to explain your abilities to anyone!"

"Sa'zu?" Fred asked confused. Harry rolled his eyes.

"My name, _mīn __hearra__,_" he replied before holding the map so that the cap could take a look at it as well. "The escape routes are printed on it with the instructions how to enter them, _gúþwine_."

"Damn," the hat said. "Not good. Not good at all…"

Fred and George exchanged a confused look.

"Why?" They asked.

The answer was a sigh from Harry.

"If that thing falls into the enemy's hands, _mīn __hearran,_ Hogwarts will be invaded through our escape routes or the routes could be blocked before the students could escape."

This time, the look Fred and George exchanged was horrified. They had never thought about the map like that ever before.

"Adding to that that the enemy could see wherever you've hidden away your defenders," Harry added darkly.

"So… you're going to destroy it?" George asked downtrodden. Of course he understood the founder's fears, but that didn't change the fact that the map was quite a handy pranking tool.

Harry contemplated it.

"C'mon, Sa'zu!" The hat said. "You cannot take away something they use to have some fun!"

Harry frowned at the hat at that.

"Since when do you plead for a pair of pranksters,_ gúþwine_?" He asked.

This time Fred and George exchanged a confused look.

"What do you mean 'since when does he plead for a pair of pranksters'?" Fred asked.

"Wasn't he the prankster of you four?" George added.

"ME!?" The hat shrieked. "NO! I have only ever defended myself from –"

"Sure, Godric!" Harry interrupted amused. "And you weren't the one who asked for the prank-war wards!"

"I've only done that because it was the only way I even had a chance to –"

"I'm quite sure that if I asked Peeves or R'ena they would be on my side this time around, _gúþwine_!" Harry grinned evilly.

"They're never on your side!" The hat growled.

"Exactly," Harry said smugly and not the least perturbed by the hat's exclamation. "And that'll just show you even more that I'm right."

The mouth-like opening of the hat, opened and didn't close again at that.

"So… if Gryffindor wasn't the prankster of the four of you," Fred started.

"Who was?" George asked.

Harry and the hat exchanged a look, before the hat spoke.

"Sa'zár," it snarled while Harry said grinning. "Me."

"You should have figured that out already," the hat added. "With all the damn pranks riddling the castle since Sa'zu arrived again this year!"

Fred looked at George.

George looked at Fred.

"We should have gone to Slytherin," they said to each other in awe.

"Hey!" The hat protested at that indignantly. "What's wrong with Gryffindor?"

The answer was a malicious grin from Harry.

"It doesn't have me in it, _gúþwine_," he said and the hat groaned.

"For the last time, Sa'zu: No!" It exclaimed. "I wouldn't have had a house left at the end of the school year if I would have sorted you into Gryffindor – and you know that!"

Harry shrugged.

"Doesn't change the fact that I not being in Gryffindor is the thing that's wrong with it, _gúþwine_," he said smugly.

Neither Fred nor George could object to that.

The hat simply groaned again.

sSsSsSs

"Well – do you have decided, Sproutie?" Peeves asked the Head of Hufflepuff with a wide grin. Pomona frowned at that exclamation. She knew that Peeves basically wanted her silence for the explanation why he thought that he was the one who could judge best who was or wasn't a good Head of House Hufflepuff.

Of course, Pomona knew that the only sensible answer would be to say 'no' to Peeves' offer – an answer the Headmaster and everyone else would expect Pomona to give without a second thought. Surprisingly, Pomona couldn't.

She knew what was expected, but at the same time she _wanted to hear _Peeves explanation – even if it came with her silence.

For a moment or two those two options fought in Pomona's mind with each other; then one of them won.

"I won't say anything to anyone else," she promised and the poltergeist send her a shark-like smile.

The familiar silhouette of the poltergeist suddenly melted away, giving room to the slender form of a blue eyed ghostly woman with fiery red hair.

Said woman bowed down to Pomona to whisper in her ear.

"If anyone knows how the Head of House Hufflepuff should act, it should be me," she said. "Since _I am _Helga Hufflepuff."

**sSs**

xXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxSortingxXxHatxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXx

**sSs**

_**Explanation:**_

_gúþwine - old English for 'Comrade in war'_

_mīn hearran_ – my lords

_ágitaþ_?! – understood?!

_mīn hearra_ – my lord

**sSs**

_So, that's it for today._

'_Till next time._

_Ebenbild_


	12. Chapter 12

_**Disclaimer:**__ HP does not belong to me, just the idea I used on the characters… all recognizable things are Rowlings_

_**Information:**__ AU-Sorting, takes place in HP1. Reincarnation-fic!_

_To all that send me ideas for pranks: __**THANK YOU VERY MUCH!**_

_**Dear Guest (and everyone else who asked)**_

_Yes, I'm using some old English words in my chapters, at least I use words that I found in an online dictionary about Old English. I hope this answers the question._

_I'm sorry I'm not always able to answer to Reviews. Nevertheless, I love reading them and I try to answer at least a few - even if I normally don't answer in front of a chapter._

_Thank you so much for your reviews! They (and of course the rest of my silent readers) are the reason why I continue with writing this story. So thank you for encouraging me!_

_Ebenbild_

xXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxSortingxXxHatxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXx

**sSs**

**WHY TO SORT A STUDENT IS A HORRIBLE JOB**

**A TEACHER'S CASE – THE REACTION**

**sSs**

Pomona Sprout was running around like a surprised chicken.

Since the night before she was unable to sit down and calm down.

_Helga Hufflepuff!_

_**Helga Hufflepuff**__ was still in Hogwarts!_

_HELGA HUFFLEPUFF!_

"Are you all right, Pomona?" Filius Flitwick looked at his colleague a little bit concerned.

For a moment Pomona could only stare at the diminutive charms professor.

"Pomona?" The concern was even more pronounced this time around.

"Alright," Pomona managed to press out, her voice sounding more like the squeaky voice of a teenage girl on a fan-hunt then the voice of a mature professor. "I'm alright!"

The Head of Ravenclaw looked at her oddly at that.

"Maybe you should go to Poppy for a check-up," Filius Flitwick replied, his brow furrowed. "You don't sound as if you _are_ alright."

Pomona opened her mouth to object to that before closing it and shaking her head.

"I…," she said, hesitating.

_Was she allowed to tell anyone?_

Then she pressed her mouth together and silenced herself.

She had promised not to talk.

"It's nothing," she said in a high pitched voice. "I'm alright. Totally alright! I just… found out something that shocked me a bit. Nothing to concern you about!"

The other teachers around her looked at her at that.

"Did something happen to your family?" Minerva McGonagall asked concerned.

Pomona shook her head.

"No, no!" She said. "They're right as rain. It's just about something someone told me about Hogwarts that I hadn't known before. There so much we don't know so finding out something I wasn't aware of shouldn't be too surprising. I guess I'm just unused to it since I thought that I had long since learned every secret Hogwarts holds."

At that, Albus Dumbledore nodded with understanding in his eyes.

"You're right, Pomona," he said. "There are still some secrets _I _don't fully understand about Hogwarts and I've been a teacher here longer than you live!"

For a moment Pomona wanted to ask if the Headmaster implied that he knew about Helga Hufflepuff still being part of Hogwarts, but before she could utter her question, the Headmaster already continued with his speech.

"It's too bad that the Founders didn't leave some written testament about the secrets of Hogwarts," he mused. "It would be a delight to know what exactly the Founders included into Hogwarts defences and wards…"

Pomona closed her mouth again, her question dying in her throat.

Why should the Headmaster muse about the lost secrets of Hogwarts and the lack of written testimony about them if he knew about the founders?

But while Pomona closed her mouth, Filius Flitwick opened his.

"There are other ways to find out about those secrets," Filius Flitwick said. "I'm sure that you just haven't asked the right person to get answers to your question, Headmaster!"

The Headmaster laughed at that.

"I surely didn't," he said. "How sorrowful that no Founder decided to stay in school as a ghost! Even if it would have been Hufflepuff – think about the facts she would have been able to tell us!"

Pomona frowned at that in displeasure.

_Even if it would have been Hufflepuff?!_

She definitely adored the fact that Helga stayed – even if she was a poltergeist.

That thought made Pomona grin.

_A poltergeist._

_Helga Hufflepuff was a poltergeist!_

It was in that moment that Pomona saw another man grimacing like her when hearing the Headmaster's exclamation.

"As far as I heard, Headmaster," Filius Flitwick said. "Helga Hufflepuff wasn't a woman to be trifled with. She might have been a soft-hearted woman, but I heard that she could be vicious the moment you angered her."

Minerva raised an eyebrow at that.

"Where did you find that tit-bit of information, Filius?" She asked interestedly. "It's not mentioned in '_Hogwarts – A History'_."

"It isn't," Filius said, winking it off. "But there are other possibilities to gain information."

_Like talking to a founder_, Pomona thought, while looking at Filius Flitwick with new eyes.

_Did he know?_

"There are still the ghosts, after all," Filius added.

_He might._

"There are no ghost from the founders' time," Snape sneered. "And now tell me why we're talking about such a useless topic at dinner?"

Pomona frowned at that darkly.

Then she suppressed a vicious grin.

_Helga Hufflepuff was a poltergeist!_

Still, with all her fan-girling, she wasn't too happy with Snape right now…

"Why are you talking about ghosts of the founders' time?" A quiet voice suddenly asked her. Her eyes widened and she discretely pulled aside the tablecloth so that she could look beneath the table.

There was nothing there…

Then, as if feeling her gaze on him, an invisible hood was pulled back to expose big green and innocent looking eyes beneath a red cap.

Pomona felt unexplainably like cooing at the child beneath the table instead of like wanting to scold it that it was there.

"I don't think that the topic of the founders is useless," Filius Flitwick said in that moment. "They are the founders of our school, after all. Without their exceptional knowledge of magic this school would have never started to exist!"

"I'm not saying that the topic of the founders is useless!" Snape sneered. "But it's useless to wish to meet them in any way or form. They might have known exceptional magic, but obviously they never thought about leaving us a portrait!"

The boy beneath the table frowned at that.

"You're seriously complaining about the doings and shortcomings of the founders?" He whispered. "Don't you have other, more important things to discuss at dinner?"

Pomona frowned at the child.

"Don't you have other places to be?" She whispered back.

The boy blinked at her at that before grinning.

"Touché," he said amused before looking around beneath the table.

"You seen that damn cat anywhere nearby, professor, _gúþwine_?" He asked.

"You don't think that she's here, do you truly, Sa'zu?" The hat replied whispering. "You're the only one who continually breaks the rules of the Great Hall, after all."

The boy pouted at that.

"It's not as if the rules Helga made make so much sense," he defended himself.

Pomona startled.

"Are you alright, Pomona?" Filius Flitwick asked again.

"I am," she said hastily. "I just surprised myself right now."

Then she discretely again looked beneath the table.

Big green eyes returned her gaze.

"You know about Peeves," the boy said, looking at her interestedly. "She told you and you believed her?"

Pomona's eyes widened at that second name that confirmed that the boy truly knew about the still existing founder.

"You know about Helga Hufflepuff?" She whispered.

The cap snickered.

"Sa'zu asked first," it said amused.

"Godric, shh!" The boy reprimanded the hat quietly.

Pomona felt as if her eyes were about to pop out of her head.

The boy looked at her interestedly.

"No, Sa'zu," the hat whispered harshly. "No experimenting on Professors!"

The answer was a disappointed pout.

"And now get going before you're missed at the Slytherin table!" The hat added.

"Going, going," the boy murmured, still pouting and then started to crawl away from Pomona. Like a monkey he skipped the feet of the Professors and then vanished fully just before he slipped out of the table.

A minute later, a little first year Slytherin sat up from his place at the middle of the Slytherin table and continued eating as if nothing had happened. Not one of the Slytherins or anybody else spared him even a second glance. It was as if he had been always there…

Pomona looked at the child in confusion.

_Why had it been beneath the teachers' table?_

As if the child could read her thoughts, it looked up from its meal and grinned at her conspiratorially. Then he returned to his meal as if nothing had happened.

Pomona frowned, but then Filius drew her back into the conversation and she forgot about the odd meeting.

After all, young Harry Potter had been a model student until now – there was no way that this model student would do something against the rules, was there?

_sSsSsSs_

Albus Dumbledore was sitting at the dinner table.

He had finished eating, but he was still conversing with Minerva, so he hadn't yet thought about standing up and returning to his office.

He was in the middle of a repetition of a new transfiguration essay he had read just a day ago, when suddenly Professor Quirrell nearly fell onto his lap.

"Quirinus, are you well?" He asked concerned.

The Defence Professor shook his head slowly before rubbing his eyes as if he had to get rid of some cobwebs.

"I'm sorry, Headmaster," he said. "I guess I've moved too fast."

Albus frowned.

"Are you sure you're well, Quirinus?" He repeated.

"Sure, sure," the Defence Professor replied. "A little bit of a headache, but all in all, I'm fine."

Then the professor made another step and stumbled again.

"What?" The professor frowned and looked at his feet.

Albus and some other teachers followed the Defence Professor's eyes with their own.

Albus blinked.

"I'm not quite sure that there's a spell to do something like that," he commented surprised.

Filius looked at Quirrell's feet.

"I can't remember a charm that could do that," he said. "Opening – yes; but binding them together wrongly – no."

"So how…?" The headmaster asked fascinated.

The Charms Professor shrugged.

"Except of the muggle way – no idea," he said.

The Defence Professor stared at his feet frowning. His shoes had been opened and then bound together wrongly.

"Why would someone bother with my shoes?" He asked confused. "Especially if they have to do it manually?"

The Charms Professor shrugged.

"I would prefer to know how someone did it," he said confused. "It can't be an easy spell, since they only did it with one pair of shoes."

In that moment, Sybil Trelawney stood up and stumbled.

The Charms Professor corrected himself.

"Two," he said.

Albus could and would never understand why their interactions made Pomona fall from her chair, laughing.

_sSsSsSs_

"So you're telling me that you talked to Professor Sprout," Neville said while leaning back against the wall.

"Yep," the poltergeist of Hogwarts replied grinning. "Peevsie decided to talk to Sproutie!"

Neville looked at the poltergeist in confusion and disbelief.

"You talked to her?" He repeated. "You. _Talked_. To. Her?!"

The poltergeist cackled and removed the helmet of one of the armours. He stuck his head into it.

"Yep!" He replied, his voice echoing in the helmet.

Neville shook his head.

"Since when do you_ talk_ to teachers?" He asked confused. "Aren't you normally far too preoccupied to create chaos to even think about talking to teachers?"

Peeves pulled his head out of the helmet.

"Chaos?" He asked.

Neville nodded seriously.

"As far as I know you never talk to teachers because you're always wreaking havoc," he said.

Peeves thought about that while turning the helmet in his hands.

Neville took the helmet from the poltergeist and tried to put it back where it belonged.

Unfortunately, he was too short to do so and instead of putting it back, he crashed into the armour.

The armour toppled over and with a loud bang scattered on the floor.

Peeves gaggled in appreciation.

"Peevsie likes sapling's chaos," the poltergeist crowed.

Neville just moaned, stood up slowly and then looked at the mayhem he had created.

"Maybe we should change location," he said.

The answer was another cackle from Peeves.

"Sapling might be right with that one," the poltergeist said and then flew along the hallway in such a high speed that Neville had trouble following the spectre.

They rounded a corner – and crashed into the Weasley twins.

Peeves eyes widened and he backed away.

"No!" The spectre moaned. "No! No! No! Peevsie doesn't want to flee again!"

Neville meanwhile sat on the floor and rubbed his head.

"Flee?" He repeated confused, exchanging a glance with the equaly confused looking Weasley twins. "Why do you have to flee from the twins?"

Peeves floated nervously up and down in front of them.

"Peevsie has no idea," Peeves said. "The chaos Weazys are stalking Peevsie. Peevsie has never ask why. Peevsie just flees!"

Now the Weasley twins exchanged baffled glances among themselves.

"We're stalking Peeves?" One of them asked befuddled.

"Why didn't we –?"

"– know about that fact?"

Neville looked at the twins in equal bafflement.

"Why does Peeves think you're stalking him if you actually aren't?" He asked confused.

Both of the twins shrugged.

"Maybe it's our –"

"– aura of awesomeness –"

"– that we spread throughout the whole castle –"

"– that makes him think we stalk him?" The twins suggested.

Peeves pouted.

"Chaos Weazys are stalking Peevsie and now they deny it flatly!" He huffed. "Chaos Weazys are lying Weazys!"

Neville who could see the still prominent confusion in the twins' eyes guessed that there might be something else going on.

"What are you actually doing here?" He finally said. Peeves and he had been in one of the less occupied corridors of Hogwarts, so it wasn't one of the hallways someone wandered just for fun.

The twins looked at him in bafflement for a moment, then the right twin's eyes widened.

"Oh!" He said. "We were following someone!"

Peeves snorted at that.

"Stalking," he corrected pouting. "They were stalking me!"

"Weren't," the left twin said while standing up and looking around. The right twin helped Neville to his feet while the ex-left one bend down and retrieved a piece of parchment from beneath one of the armours' feet.

He shook it out and then opened it to show it to Neville.

"Look!" He said. "This map shows everyone in Hogwarts."

Neville frowned and looked at his dot surrounded by Weasleys. It seemed that the one holding the map was actually Fred and the one how helped him to stand was George.

"So?" He asked.

"Well," George said. "Like Gred said: It shows everyone at Hogwarts. But since this year it also shows people who shouldn't be here!"

"Huh?" Neville said in confusion.

The other twin nodded and then tipped the map with his wand.

"Show me Helga Hufflepuff!" He demanded.

There was a moment of silence from the twins.

Then both of them reacted at the same time.

"What?!" They screamed.

Neville looked up from the map.

"What?" He asked surprised. "Does that mean you didn't know?"

The Weasley twins stared at the map.

Then they looked at Neville, then at Peeves and back at the map.

"Does that mean," one of them started amazed.

"You knew?!" The other twin finished.

Neville looked amused from one twin to the other.

"I figured it out after the library incident and Salazar and Godric talking with Peeves," he said unperturbed.

"You figured it out?" The twins asked amazed.

Neville shrugged.

"It took some time," he said.

"And you were distracted by biscuits," Peeves added nodding seriously.

Neville blushed beet red.

"That too," he confessed pouting. "Nevertheless I was reasonably sure ages ago."

"Reasonably sure?" Fred asked confused.

Neville just shrugged.

"I never asked," he said. "I figured that if Peeves wanted to tell me, he… pardon, _she_ would."

Peeves nodded again, her face mock-serious.

"I would," she said.

Then her index finger tipped against her chin while her arms were in something akin to a half-fold.

"Maybe sometimes in the next two or three centuries," she added.

Neville rolled his eyes.

"Then I would have simply asked Sa'zu," he said. "It's not as if he's keeping it quiet."

The answer was a feral grin.

"If you had done that, you wouldn't have had your answer even in a thousand years," she said grinning. "Don't underestimate him. He might like to play the loving prankster, but he has always been the most complicated of us."

The twins nodded at that.

"Sure," one of them said.

"With him having the reputation," the other one added.

"– of a Dark Lord –"

"– he must have been very complicated –"

"– to be so misunderstood –"

"– by history!" They finished together.

Peeves grinned at the twins an even more feral grin.

"Who said he was misunderstood?" She asked and the jaws of Neville and the twins dropped to the floor.

_sSsSsSs_

Shortly after dinner, Pomona managed to corner one small Charms Professor in his office.

"Pomona," he said surprised. "How can I help you?"

She stopped just after entering the professor's office and was about to close the door when Mrs. Norris entered.

She frowned at the cat.

"Leave her be," Filius said.

So Pomona simply closed the door and then erected some privacy wards to shield their discussion.

"Pomona?" Filius asked surprised when he saw the wards going up.

She hesitated.

For a moment she rung her hands, before she straightened up and looked Filius in the eye.

"The discussion at the table, about the founders," she said hesitatingly.

Filius' eyebrows furrowed.

"What about it?" He asked.

"You spoke as if you had a source from the founders' time," Pomona said.

The answer was a frown.

"And what if I had?" Filius asked while putting away the students' essays when Mrs. Norris decided to hop on the desk.

"What source do you have?" Pomona asked.

The goblin descendant pressed his lips together at that question.

"I'm sorry, Pomona," he said while stopping Mrs. Norris from throwing one of his photos from his desk. The cat looked at him in betrayal at that. "I can't say."

Pomona's eyes widened at that, and a smile spread over her features.

The Charms Professor looked at her in surprise at that.

"What if I told you that I had a source from the founders' time as well?" She asked.

Filius' left eyebrow rose.

"You do?" He asked in surprise and then grabbed the cat, his eyebrow still raised while he stopped the cat from jumping onto his chair.

"I do," she said smiling.

For a moment she hesitated, then she decided to add something else.

"Have you seen Peeves recently?" She asked the Charms Professor.

"Peeves?" Filius asked confused. "Why do you change the topic to Peeves?"

Pomona frowned at that.

_Did he have another source?_

Before she could answer or even think about answering the question, someone else answered for her.

"She wanted to know if you know that Hogwarts' poltergeist is Helga," an amused female voice said. "Not that you ever talked to her in any way or form…"

Pomona's eyes widened.

"Who…" she said, but she was interrupted by laughing.

"Hogwarts has always housed more than one of us," the voice replied amused.

Pomona stared.

Then she remembered something else.

"Godric!" She gasped, and before she could explain, she lost consciousness.

The last thing she saw was an absolute confused and concerned looking goblin descendant.

_sSsSsSs_

That evening a model student with a prankster streak and a cap sat on the wet floor of a hidden Chamber within the school.

"Any reason why you spoke up from under the table?" The hat asked.

The boy shrugged.

"I felt like it," he said.

"That's it?" The hat asked surprised.

The answer was another shrug.

"It isn't quite… satisfying if nobody ever thinks of me as the prankster," the boy pouted. "Just because I'm eleven doesn't mean I'm innocent!"

The answer was a disbelieving snort.

"I don't believe that that was truly your reason, Sa'zu," the Sorting Hat said. "I might look like a hat, but I'm quite able to see when you're doing something for no reason and when you've got plans in plans – and this occasion definitely was the later one!"

Sa'zu shrugged and scratched his head.

"The Philosopher's stone," he said. "I needed some knowledge of the protections around it."

"And?"

The answer was a grin.

"And Professor Sprout was kind enough to notice me and to look at me," the boy replied grinning. "It's a lot easier if you have some eye contact."

The hat snorted at that.

"So you know now about the protections of the stone?" It asked.

The boy shrugged.

"Mostly," he said. "I've still one teacher to go, but then, yes, I'm ready."

"Ready for what?" The hat asked. "What do you plan?"

The boy frowned.

"How should I know, _gúþwine_," he complained. "I'm just looking into the Philospher's stone and our defence professor."

The hat's non-existent eyebrows narrowed.

"What about the defence professor?" it asked the boy concerned.

The answer was a shrug.

"Either he's a pervert or there's something more going on with him than I've been able to find out until now," the boy replied frowning. "Maybe we should catch him and have a thorough look into his mind. There's something fishy in there…"

"May I ask what you're talking about?" The hat asked confused.

The boy shrugged.

"I've not yet found out," he said. "The only thing I can tell is that he tries to enter my mind regularly in class. He makes that damn rune protection on my forehead itch and his mind feels oily and somehow ill to my touches."

The hat frowned.

"That sounds like a mystery R'ena would enjoy," he commented.

The boy nodded.

"I know," he said. "But I don't dare to go near her."

The confusion was even on the leather face of an old hat readable for everyone.

"Why not?" The Sorting Hat asked.

The boy rolled his eyes and then pointed at his scar.

"Do you know what will happen when I meet Rowena with such a rune protection on my forehead, _gúþwine_?" He asked rhetorically. "She will dissect me! She will anatomise me, vivisect me without feeling the slightest bit guilty about it! I don't fancy a vacation in her laboratory!"

If the Hat would have had eyes, it would have rolled them.

"She's not that bad, Sa'zu," it said.

The boy looked at the hat in disbelieve.

"Then please describe me her reaction to your new existence as the Sorting Hat, Godric," he said sarcastically.

The hat opened its rim to reply, just to stop before uttering a word.

If the hat had been able, it would have paled.

"Dear _Gods_!" It exclaimed horrified. "Run, Sa'zu, run!"

**sSs**

xXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxSortingxXxHatxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXx

**sSs**

_**Explanation:**_

_gúþwine - old English for 'Comrade in war'_

**sSs**

_So, that's it for today._

_Well, 'till next time._

_Ebenbild_


	13. Chapter 13

_**Disclaimer:**__ HP does not belong to me, just the idea I used on the characters… all recognizable things are Rowlings_

_**Information:**__ AU-Sorting, takes place in HP1. Reincarnation-fic!_

_To all that send me ideas for pranks and to all that review my story and encourage me to continue (even if I don't answer them all, since I have not enough time to do so): __**THANK YOU VERY MUCH!**_

xXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxSortingxXxHatxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXx

**sSs**

**WHY TO SORT A STUDENT IS A HORRIBLE JOB**

**A TEACHER'S CASE – THE ****REPUDIATION**

**sSs**

Severus Snape was at the end of his rope.

_Literally._

And to Severus' absolute horror a lot more literally than he wished to be.

Because, if he wished it or not, his feet were dangling about fifty feet above the ground.

Severus did not even dare to look down upon the Great Hall that was somewhere way done beneath his feet.

He could hear the students and other teachers chattering beneath him and for a moment he wondered if someone down there would miss him if he did not show up in the Great Hall for lunch.

Then he dismissed the thought regretfully. He wouldn't be missed by anyone any time soon – and the possibility of being seen was practically non-existent. You could not see the ceiling from the ground of the Great Hall. All you saw was the enchantment.

To Severus' sorrow he hung above the enchantment on the ceiling, just between the enchantment and the ceiling itself. His hands and feet, as well as his chest were bound to a chair. Said chair was hanging on one of the construction beams, connected to it by a simple rope, that looked thin enough to be called a 'yarn' in Severus' eyes.

Said yarn, pardon,_ rope_ was tied to the back of his chair, so that his chair was slightly swinging in the nothingness between construction beam and ground.

Severus just pleaded with every deity he could think of that the rope wouldn't give in.

He wasn't ready to die, yet.

Oh yes, Severus Snape was at the end of his rope – rhetorically and quite literally as well.

And it all had started with the damn Potter-brat who dared to sort himself into Slytherin – from that moment on there had been nothing to stop his fall into the abyss…

sSsSsSs

Severus Snape had been waiting for the day that Harry Potter would return to Hogwarts. He had known since the day he had accepted his position as the potions professor of Hogwarts that he would have to teach the Potter brat some times in the future and he had been looking forward to finally make sure that the arrogant brat wouldn't turn out like his father.

Of course, Severus had thought it a given that the brat would be a Gryffindor.

There had been no doubt in Severus' mind that Potter would be exactly like his father. The Headmaster had said it years ago: "The boy's exactly like his father. Only his eyes – those are the eyes of his mother."

Severus had hated that description back then, but then he guessed that there was no way that Potter's horrid personality wouldn't win against Lily's lovely one. After all, Potter's horrid one had won once already when he had turned Lily away from Severus and married her even if she hated him all those years before!

So Severus had prepared himself to reign in another arrogant, good for nothing Potter.

Then the day had come – and Harry Potter had been sorted into Slytherin.

Severus didn't know how long he had been sitting in his chair in the Great Hall, staring into nothingness and unable to believe that the Potter brat, his arch enemy's son, had been sorted into Severus' house.

If Potter had been a bit like Lily, Severus would have understood it. But this boy was clearly Potter's brat – there was no way that Potter's spawn could ever be sorted into Slytherin!

"There has to be a mistake," he murmured to himself. Of all the teachers around him, it was the Headmaster who answered that stunned exclamation.

"Definitely," he said. "There's no way that Lily and James' son could be a Slytherin. He doesn't have it in his genes…"

"You, Albus, should know that it has nothing to do with genes," Minerva McGonagall said frowning. "It's all about the nurturing. A child can be raised to display certain character traits. Of course, there might be some genes in that as well, but how a child is raised definitely counts. And it seems that Mr. Potter's guardians raised him to show Slytherin traits instead of his parents' Gryffindor ones!"

She hadn't seemed pleased about that. Severus on the other hand had no idea if he should believe her claims or not. He tended to not, so he had gone down to Slytherin common room with the intent to show that a Gryffindor like him was not welcomed into Slytherin. So he had crafted his speech in a way that would leave the insufferable Gryffindor in the dark while every other Slytherin would understand the meaning of it quite well…

He had entered the common room, searched out Potter with his eyes, braced himself against the hurt that constricted his chest the moment he saw Lily's eyes in Potter senior's face, sneered at the boy and then started his modified speech.

"From today onwards, Slytherin will be your family," he said, his fathomless black eyes turning to Potter. "And like in every proper family, there will be rules which some of you might find difficult to follow."

The boy looked at him with no understanding in his eyes.

_Gryffindor __dunderhead – exactly like his father!_

_Except of his eyes. They look like Lily's, _a small voice objected in the back of his head. Severus squashed the part inside him which wanted to see Lily in the boy ruthlessly.

"I know that some of you might find it hard to accept their new place at the bottom of the hierarchy," he elaborated, showing with his eyes who he was talking about while he continued. "While others, who know proper behavior will rise to the top –" this time he looked towards the Malfoy boy. "- so I just say this once: your place in Slytherin will have nothing to do with your… _famousness_… in the outer world –" again a look towards Potter. "- In here, you will be solely judged by your skills, be they meagre and not worth mentioning, or just not yet polished." At that he turned his way to the other first years.

And his Slytherins got his message and started to act on it. Potter was an outcast of Slytherin – exactly like he should be.

And of course, Potter didn't notice or understand it at all. He not even got the message that Slytherin table was ruled by as much rules as the rest of the house's interactions. Severus had told the first years – and Potter hadn't understood.

_Gryffindor dunderhead!_

_Exactly like his father!_

_But Lily was a master in hiding her thoughts and understanding, _his consciousness reminded him. He squashed that voice again.

_Gryffindor dunderhead that was all that boy was! Nothing else!_

Even a helpful reminder by one of the third years didn't help the boy's Gryffindor mind to understand Slytherin rules.

"You might find somewhere else to sit, Potter," the third year had said – and the Potter-boy's puzzled question had been: "Why? I like sitting here."

_Was that Lily's sarcasm in the boy's voice?_

_No!_

_That was solely Gryffindor stupidity._

_What __a __Gryffindor __dunderhead__!_

Severus had walked away sneering, never hearing Potter's added word, never seeing the Slytherin like reply, hidden within the innocent question: "It's a cozy seat, don't you think so, too, Master Flint?"

The first potion's class simply proofed Severus right with his assumption that the boy had been miss-sorted. Instead – like it would have been proper for a Slytherin – the boy sat down in the middle of the Gryffindors as if he had been one of them all the time.

_Just like Lily, preferring to sit next to a friend – even if said friend is in another house…_

_No!_

_Solely a sign that even the brat considers himself a _ _Slytherin!_

From then on, the Gryffindor in Slytherin clothing could often be seen with his two new Gryffindor sidekicks.

Severus was livid seeing the boy sullying the reputation of his house. He was about to confront the insufferable child himself, when the Prince of Slytherin had enough as well and finally acted. Potter was finally officially banned from Slytherin.

The dunderhead didn't mind it at all.

_Lily __would__ have __minded__! _He thought to himself.

_She interacted with you and was therefore more than once outcast in Gryffindor, _his consciousness reminded him. _She never cared._

_No! It was Gryffindor stupidity that made sure that the boy didn't notice!_

In the end, Severus was forced to meet with the boy to set him straight.

"Potter," he said to the boy. "You will crease to destroy the reputation of our house! Start acting like a proper Slytherin and follow its rules!"

The Potter boy had just looked at him with oddly emotionless eyes.

_Lily's eyes – as lifeless as they had been when he had seen her last as a corps._

That thought made him shudder and he forcibly removed it from his mind.

"Give me one reason why," the brat finally asked.

_Just __like __Lily __when __James __Potter__ had __confronted __her __about __her __friendship __with __Severus__._

_No__! __That __was __James __Potter's __arrogance __and __nothing __else__!_

Severus spluttered.

"You're a Slytherin, boy!" He nearly hissed. "If you have to be part of my house, you will act like it!"

The boy just stared back at him blankly.

"I might wear the colours of Slytherin – but as far as you and the rest of you are concerned, _I __am __not _one of you. Do you truly think I'm stupid enough not to notice that you shun me? That I don't see the hatred in your eyes? The prejudice?" The boy sneered at him. "I am a Slytherin! I was sorted into this house – and yet you can't see what's in front of you!" The boy shook his head. "This is my first and last warning: The moment you overstep the line, I will finish you. Good day, Professor Snape."

For a moment, Severus felt guilty. This was Lily's boy. A child so much like her that it hurt to be even near the child. Then the boy left his office, and the spell broke, leaving a seething and disbelieving Severus behind.

_Maybe, _Severus would contemplate months later,_ he should have listened to the boy back then…_

But he hadn't, and the price to pay might be higher than Severus anticipated.

So instead of trying to reign in his house, Severus had left it to its task shunning and even kind of bullying Potter.

The whole thing even went that far, that even months after the start of school Severus made the mistake of thinking Potter as a Gryffindor instead of a Slytherin – not that he thought that he wasn't right with that assortment.

The whole thing came to a head when Potter decided to play in potion's class instead of brewing the potion Severus had assigned.

_Was he playing or inventing? Lily had always been bored in potions. She and Severus had more than often used their time inventing instead of brewing what they should have brewed._

_No! This was Potter's spawn! And Potter had always just mucked around in potions!_

Severus of course did what he thought best and vanished the mess before Potter could kill everybody else with his stupidity. The boy hadn't been pleased, and he had been even less pleased when Severus assigned him detention.

The detention, of course, had consisted of the most hideous task Severus could imagine while he had set the boy to right about his capabilities in potions.

"You, Potter," he had growled. "Will never, ever be a capable potions master! You will always be the dunderhead who can't even heat water without burning it – and if it's the last thing I will do, I will make sure that at the end of your Hogwarts' career you will have such grates in potions that nobody will even think to let you near a cauldron ever again! Exactly like it should have been from the start!"

_Yes! The boy was absolute unlike Lily! Solely mucking around and endangering everybody!_

Potter's eyes had narrowed at that.

"So you plan to falsify my grades?" He asked icily.

Severus had just sneered.

"I don't need to," he said. "You haven't gained any passing grades since you started Hogwarts. Every one of your potions has either been a failure or it has been a failure and unfinished!"

_Only that the boy's potions all looked like the trials of an experimental potion, not like the work of a lazy student… just like Lily's…_

Potter's eyes had narrowed at that and Severus was reminded that this was Potter's spawn – and unlike Lily, Potter's spawn solely mucked around in potions.

"You," the boy finally said. "Are thoroughly blinded by your hatred. You have not even tried to take a look at my work, have you, Professor Snape?"

Severus just sneered at him, before continuing with his triad.

That evening he had gotten a visit by the Grey Lady.

"You should stop aggravating my uncle, Severus Snape," the ghost said concerned. "You won't like the consequences you will have to face if you continue on your current path. He warns just once – the next time you will overstep the line, he will make you regret it."

Severus Snape had just sneered at the ghost.

"Your uncle?" He repeated.

"Sa…," the Grey Lady stopped at that and shook her head sighing. "Currently he goes by Harry Potter," she corrected herself.

Severus just intensified his sneer.

"So Potter has already started with his less than stellar Hogwarts' career," he growled. "I guess that this try of a prank will gain him another detention or two."

Severus had been right.

_That boy was exactly like his father! He was nothing like Lily at all! Except of the eyes. Those were Lily's eyes._

_And how it hurt to think about that little fact!_

The ghost shook her head frantically.

"This is no prank, Snape!" She cried. "I mean it! This is a warning! Stop it or you _will _regret it!"

But Severus wouldn't listen, too engrossed in thinking up the tasks for this new detention of the Potter boy.

The boy hadn't been happy to be put into detention for his little prank.

Severus thought it justified considering what the brat's father had always been up to.

Two days later, Marcus Flint, one of the more respected Slytherins started his foray into the pranking world. Severus definitely wasn't happy when first one, then even more Slytherins came to him, telling him that Flint had pranked them. Considering that they were looking like clowns, Severus guessed that the rumour had to be true, at least a bit…

In the end, even the Headmaster heard about the pranks and decided to act. He called Marcus Flint into his office – just to come back looking like a clown himself…

"It's Peeves doing," the Headmaster said. "For whatever reason the poltergeist seems to like to prank people when they're around Flint."

Severus of course hadn't believed that and started investigating by calling Flint into his office.

"Explain!" He said icily, looking at his student coolly.

The boy had blushed and then sighed.

"It seems that I'm currently in challenge with Potter," he said tiredly. "Looks like there are wards in place that stop others from challenging me if I don't accept the challenge myself as long as I'm involved in another challenge."

Severus frowned at that.

"You're telling me the students challenging you without your acceptance are changed into clowns?" He repeated in disbelief. Flint nodded.

"Peeves said that the wards have always been in place," he replied. "From his talking you could think that Salazar Slytherin himself put up those wards."

Severus sneered at that.

"I don't believe that our house's founder would have ever done something so disgracing like putting up prank wards!" He sneered. "I bet it has something to do with Potter! It's always Potter! There's no way that Slytherin would have done something like that!"

_Potter was his father's son after all! All his father's and nothing like Lily at all!_

Flint looked for a moment or two like he wanted to object, but in the end he just inclined his head.

"Of course not, sir," he said and Severus had dismissed him.

He had Potter to catch and put into detention.

_The boy would learn that pranks had no place in Salazar Slytherin's noble house!_

Then Hallowe'en came around and Severus had a front row seat to Potter's Gryffindor-ness. The boy had – instead of following their order and returning to their common rooms like any sensible Slytherin – gone troll hunting.

_That was definitely completely like his father! Maybe the boy had even let the troll into the castle – it would fit to the boy's attention seeking attitude!_

And of course, the first thing Severus heard from the brat were the words: "Do you think they will let me keep it if I ask nicely?"

_Definitely __like __his __father__!_

Minerva had answered _that_question.

"Mr. Potter!" she exclaimed shocked. Of course, Severus had used her shock to ensure that the brat would be punished for his deeds.

"Detention, Mr. Potter!" He sneered.

"H…how c...can you e…even th…think a…about some… something like th…that, M…Mr. Potter!" Quirrell added in that moment.

"Why not?" The Potter boy had the audacity to ask. "It's tap-dancing after all! Nobody ever saw a troll tap-dancing until now – so why shouldn't I want to keep it?"

For a moment Severus had been hard pressed not to strangle the little cretin. He took a harsh breath or two and was just about to dissect the brat verbally, when Minerva had interrupted him once again.

"Be that as it may, Mr. Potter!" she said, now righteously angry. "What you did was reckless! You could have been killed!"

Every Slytherin would have shut up at least now and nodded. Not so Potter. He had the audacity to ask sarcastically: "By a tap-dancing troll?"

Severus saw red, but Minerva was still faster in her replies.

"Well, you didn't know that it would tap-dance when you got here so –"

One deep breath.

Another deep breath.

_No, he couldn't strangle Potter._

Another deep breath.

And another one.

When Severus was sure that he wouldn't spit fire at the Potter brat, he decided to turn his attention to something else he needed to know – something he was sure that the boy knew the answer to.

"Do you know who cast the spell on the troll that forces it to perform in such ways, Mr. Potter?" he asked the Potter boy.

The answer was a typical Gryffindor one, of course. With the brat's attention finally on the dangerous part, the boy started to panic.

_Lily would have had her panic attack after the whole thing had calmed down as well. Severus had lived through it more than once._

_No! The boy was nothing like Lily!_

_Gryffindor dunderhead!_

"Er… no… no idea," the brat said, then he paled and started to ask thousands of idiotic questions. 'Is the spell dangerous? Will it break soon? Or is it maybe contagious?"

And for a moment Severus was hard pressed not to grab the brat and calm him down like he had always calmed down Lily.

Then he returned to his senses.

_Gryffindor dunderhead!_

Severus barely refrained from rolling his eyes at that thought. He knew that Minerva would flay him alive if he dared to react in such way to the unreasonable behaviour of her wrongly sorted lion cub.

Minerva on the other hand tried to sooth the boy immediately. "We will see, Mr. Potter. Now tell me why you're here in the first place," she said.

_Pampered __wrongly __sorted __Gryffindor__!_

The boy shrugged before delving into a purely Gryffindor-like story.

_Why was the boy part of his house again?!_

"I was searching for Hermione. I heard that Ronald Weasley said some things that hurt her at the feast, so I left it in search for her – she's my friend, after all. I didn't expect to find a tap-dancing troll with her in the bathroom!" The boy said.

Severus was sure that the brat had actually been searching for the troll, but before he could accuse the child of doing exactly that, Minerva had already accepted their story, taken points and send them on their way.

_The brat'__s __story definitely hadn't sounded like something Lily would have done if it had been Severs who had been in danger! Definitely not! _

Severus was sure that she had taken fifteen points from Slytherin that night – oddly enough the count the next morning told him that Slytherin had actually _gained _five points instead of losing some!

_Minerva hadn't __**given**__ points for acting like a Gryffindor, had she?!_

_And why had Gryffindor gained another twenty as well?! Where did those come from?_

Yes, Hallowe'en definitely ended in a mystery for one Severus Snape.

In the end, Hallowe'en wasn't the worst part of Severus' year. While his students had started out accepting his word about Potter, sometimes shortly after Hallowe'en it changed.

Suddenly, without any reason Severus could fathom, Slytherin House stopped shunning Potter and instead started to worship him.

_Just __like __Gryffindor __had __recognised __Lily__'s __inner __beauty __and __had __started __to __accept __her __even __with __her __ties __to __Severus__._

_No__! __The __boy __had __solely __managed __to __inflict his Gryffindor-ness onto the other Slytherins! This was an infection, not some characteristics of Lily's!_

Severus didn't know how to act, when Marcus Flint just backed down instead of threatening Potter when Potter seated himself again in Flint's place.

When Potter walked the halls, Slytherin students made room for him as if he was their Prince. When Potter said something, Slytherin did it.

It was sickening.

It was definitely like the whole House had suddenly been infected by Potter's Gryffindor-ness.

In the end, Severus couldn't take it anymore.

He invited the Prince of Slytherin and Flint to his office.

"What exactly is going on with Potter?" He asked those two angrily. "He's acting as if Slytherin belongs to him and you two simply _let him?_"

"He's actually quite disinterested in the House itself," the Prince said sighing. "As long as we don't insult or bully anyone in or outside the house, he's alright with how the house is currently managed."

Severus stared at the Prince.

"It's not Potter who's running Slytherin!" He growled. "Potter is an oblivious first year, who has been miss-sorted into out house! That Gryffindor shouldn't have any say in our rules!"

The boys exchanged a look at that,

It was Flint who spoke up.

"Maybe, sir," he said. "You should open your eyes and pay attention to our house. It seems to us that you are blinded by things that have nothing to do with the current Potter at all."

_Maybe Flint was right and Severus was deluding himself. The boy was so much like Lily that it hurt to even look at him!_

_No! The boy was Potter's spawn, and Potter's spawn alone! There was nothing of Lily's inside the boy!_

So Severus had just one reaction he allowed himself to have when hearing Flint's word. He didn't take them keenly.

"Out!" He shouted. "Out! Out! Out!"

The two Slytherins fled.

_How __dared __thos__e children __to __accuse __him __of being blinded by the Potter spawn! He was the only one seeing clearly what that wretched boy was truly like!_

_Exactly like Lily, that's what he's like, _his consciousness reminded him coolly. Severus squashed that thought.

_The boy was wretched! Exactly like his father, that was the boy!_

This belief was just verified by the first staff meeting of the year. Every other Professor had something good to say about Potter. Everyone of Severus' suspicions was put down as vastly overrated.

_Because they are, _is consciousness reminded him. _This is Lily's little boy, after all._

Severus chose not to listen.

Instead he decided that he finally had enough.

After the staff meeting he straight out marched into Slytherin common room, up to the dormitories and pulled Potter out of his bed.

"I have enough with your antics, Potter," he hisses while dragging the child out into the common room. "The other teachers might be blinded by your looks, but I know it better and I will drag up the truth!"

With that he tightened the grip on the child's arms, spun it so that it faced him and then delved into the child's mind.

For a moment, he saw nothing.

Then burning fury enveloped his senses.

"I think that it's I who has finally enough of your bias," the boy said, his voice oddly mature for an eleven year old child. "Let's see what kind of wretched man you truly are."

_And Lily's fury burned bright in Severus' mind._

There was a kind of light in front of Severus' eyes, then a horrid pain spread throughout his head.

His own Occlumency shield's shattered, but he had barely the time to recognise that his barrier had been breached by an eleven year old child before he lost every control over his thought process and body.

The next thing he remembered was dangling from the ceiling of the Great Hall, bound to a chair and a yarn the only thing that kept him from falling.

sSsSsSs

"Well, do you like hanging out with me, Sevvie?" A voice asked in that moment and Severus' head snapped up to look into the deathly green eyes of Lily Evans' son.

The boy was balancing on a construction beam not far from the one Severus was hanging from, looking down at him with interest in his eyes.

Severus started to sweat.

Partly he was concerned for the boy, Lily's child – partly because this was Potter's spawn and it was definitely the boys fault that Severus had ended up here, bound on a chair above the Great Hall.

The boy smirked and then reached behind him. Hidden behind one of the construction beams, there was an oddly piquet looking item.

Severus didn't recognize it until it was brought to the light.

It was a hat.

The Hat.

The Sorting Hat.

"Potter!" he growled, but the child just smiled.

_They __had __searched __the __whole __castle __for__ that __damn piece __of __leather__! __And __here __it __was__, __in __the __hands __of __Potter's __spawn__!_

"That's my name, now, Sevvie," the boy said smiling and sat down on one of the construction beams as if he hadn't a care in the world. "Now, do you want to hang out some more or are you ready to talk?"

Severus sneered at the boy, but decided to say nothing. He was hanging some fifty feet up in the air after all and Potter had access to the rope that held him there.

The boy crocked his head.

"I guess you won't tell me the truth if I just ask you?" the brat asked.

Severus growled.

"Guess not," Potter seemed unconcerned with that idea. "Well, there's always another way."

"He's an Occlumens, you know? No chance with simple Legilimency. You're planning to use Veritasserum?" the Hat asked interested. "I didn't know you know how to brew it – or how to use it at all."

"I'm a potion's master, Godric," the brat said snorting. "Of course I know how to brew and use a truth serum."

"It wasn't invented the last time you were –"

"Last time I was born, it was already invented, Godric," the Potter-brat said while rolling his eyes. "Just because I never told you my real name, doesn't mean that I wasn't at Hogwarts for the last thousand years."

Severus had the odd feeling that he was missing something.

Whatever Potter was talking about with the Hat, there had to be more to it than Severus knew – especially considering Potter insisted to call the Sorting Hat 'Godric'.

Severus just hoped that 'Godric' was just a nickname and not the insufferable founder of Gryffindor house himself. The House of Gryffindor would be far too smug if it was and if it ever would come out – and with Potter here it would come out. The boy was a Gryffindor to the core.

'_Except that he's in Slytherin,_' a tiny voice in Severus' mind supplied. '_He was sorted into Slytherin at the beginning of the year.'_

Severus chose to ignore it. He had heard that damn voice for months now – he was definitely getting quite good at ignoring it.

"Don't worry, _guþwine," _the brat said in that moment. "The dear Professor will talk to us and tell us what we want to know."

Severus sneered at that.

"How did you come by that thought, Potter?" He asked, not amused at all.

The boy shrugged.

"You will tell us," he said. "After all, I'm Lily's son."

The boy smirked at that and Severus eyes widened.

"How?" He asked confused and a little bit frightened. There was no way that the brat could know about that! Nobody knew of his struggles!

The brat just smirked.

"When you attacked me in the common room," the boy said. "I reversed your Legilimency."

Then he shrugged.

Severus stared at the boy.

"What?" He asked faintly.

The boy just shrugged again before explaining.

"Entering an Occlument's mind is nearly impossible if they have as good shields as you have," he said. "But the moment the Occlument casts Legilimency on another one, there is an easy way to get through their shield. You simply have to reverse their attack – and voilà, you're inside the Occluded mind."

Severus could feel his eyes widen at that. He hadn't even heard about a technique like that!

"And you, Severus Tobias Snape, can be happy that I reversed the attack and not just killed you outright," the boy said and his eyes narrowed. "I normally just kill those who dare to attack my students. Be glad that I still needed some information or I wouldn't have bothered to even take a look inside your mind."

A cold shiver ran down Severus' spine, hearing that.

Then he registered something else.

"_Your _students?" He repeated incredulously.

"_My _students," the boy replied, baring his teeth. "They're going to my school after all, don't they?"

The Hat cleared its non-existent throat.

"_Your _school?" It repeated. "Should I talk to R'ena and Peeves about _your _school?"

The boy shuddered at that.

"_Our _school," he corrected. "Definitely _our _school. No need to talk to either of them."

Severus snorted at that.

"Gryffindor," he sneered.

Oddly enough it was the Hat that reacted.

"Did you want something, Snape?" It asked him coolly.

The boy just rolled his eyes.

"I'm pretty sure he meant me," the brat said amused. "He hasn't yet gotten to the point to understand that my last name's Slytherin, not Gryffindor. He will learn, I'm sure."

Severus did a double take at that.

_The boy thought his last name was Slytherin?! Even Crabbe and Goyle knew their last names – and they were the most stupid of this year's first years!_

"Your name is Potter!" He growled at the insufferable child.

The boy blinked at that surprised.

"Huh," he said impressed. "Seems as if you managed to be partially right this time around…"

Severus sneered at the boy.

"I am right, Potter! Not partially, not just a bit – I. Am. Right!"

The boy just smirked at him.

"Maybe you should check out the book of names again," he said amused. "I'm quite sure that you will be in for a little surprise…"

That exclamation made the Hat pipe up again.

"What's wrong with the book of names?" It asked concerned.

"Nothing," the boy replied, waving it off. "It just insists on writing down my magical name, not my birth name for whatever reason…"

"So in the book you're –"

"Exactly," the boy said, his lips twitching. "Somewhat funny considering that people would freak out if they ever took a look inside the book and not just onto the list it provides every year for the sorting."

"So the reason your name at the sorting was normal?"

"All the book's fault," the boy replied to the Hat's question. "I somehow get the feeling I put too much of my personality in it when R'ena created it."

The Hat narrowed its non-existent eyes at that.

"You didn't even see the book until it was finished," it said.

The boy nodded.

"Exactly why I said that it was R'ena's fault," the brat replied. "Maybe she missed me while creating it?"

The Hat snorted.

"Definitely not," it said. "Definitely not."

"What in Merlin's name are you two talking about?!" Severus growled at that enraged.

The boy just shrugged.

"History," he replied. "Are you now willing to talk to us, Sevvie?"

"I'm not answering –"

"Good," the boy interrupted him. "Just tell me about your part of the protection of the Philosopher's stone."

Severus sneered.

"I definitely won't tell you anything about it!" He said enraged. "This has nothing to do with –"

"Don't you dare to tell me this has nothing to do with me!" The boy interrupted him, his voice now accentuated with the soft hisses of Parseltongue. "This school is under my protection and I will be damned before I sit by and let the Headmaster – a man who should keep the children safe – play with their lives by bringing a dangerous magical artefact into the school to bait a dark wizard!"

Severus shuddered when the magic of the boy branded against his body, surrounded him, nearly drowned him.

The boy's green eyes turned a poisonous silver – and suddenly all likeliness with James Potter was lost. This was Lily Evans' child, with Lily's fierce protectiveness woven all around it. Oddly enough it was the loss of the last bit of physical likeliness to Lily that enhanced the psychical likeliness to its fullest.

"This school is mine to protect! It is mine to defend and I am the only Dark Lord who has the right to weave his magic within its sacred halls!" The boy hissed his poisonous silver eyes locked with Severus' black ones. "Now tell me what I want to know or I swear to the Gods I will cut this thread and watch while you fall to your death!"

Severus had served the Dark Lord.

Severus had confronted Dumbledore.

Severus had spied on the Dark Lord.

He had been in situations where he had felt that his life was only hanging on a thin thread – and yet it was in that moment that Severus for the first time in his life feared for his life.

Severus knew that Dumbledore was a powerful man.

Severus knew that the Dark Lord was unforgiving.

And yet, it was the boy's eyes in front of him that told him of his death. The child meant it. If Severus didn't cooperate, the boy would kill him – and the boy wouldn't regret his death at all.

Severus gulped.

Then he answered.

He listed everything he knew about the traps. Going through every plan Dumbledore had, all the while wondering why he was that frightened by a mere boy. He had stood in front of the Dark Lord and lied – he shouldn't be afraid of an eleven year old child.

When he stopped, the child nodded and turned away to look at the ceiling, deep in thought.

It was then that the Hat spoke up.

"Don't worry, Snape," the Hat said. "There's a very good reason why you fear him even more than anything else you have ever confronted in your life."

"What…" Severus croaked. "What are you talking about?"

Before the Hat could answer, the boy's gaze returned to Severus. Again, a cold shiver of fear run down Severus' back after looking in the boy's silver eyes.

"Now I just have to decide what I will do with you," the Potter child said.

Severus gulped.

"I don't think that you should kill him just yet," the Hat said. "He has earned a second chance."

"He already is on his second chance," the boy replied coolly. "He was a Death Eater once. There aren't two second chances."

Narrow eyes stared at Severus at that.

"There aren't," the Hat said sighing. "But he can't have been that old when he made his first mistake. You should give him another chance on the idea that his first mistake was done by youthful arrogance."

For a moment, the boy just stared at Severus.

"Salazar," the Hat said, startling Severus who hadn't expected to hear that name in any way or form.

The boy closed his silver eyes and when they opened again, they were back to Lily's green.

"Alright," he said sighing. "Alright. But he will have to talk to Peeves and R'ena, you or I will monitor his behaviour. If he doesn't change, I will not give him another chance."

With that, the boy turned around and left, climbing over the construction beams as if he was born to do so.

The Hat and Severus stayed where they were.

"Don't worry," the Hat said. "He will return for us… sometime in the future, at least… He won't starve you too much, so at least tomorrow night he will be back."

Severus frowned at that. Normally he would have raged, but the feel of the boy's magic was still heavy in the air, making him shiver in fear.

"Potter," he said slowly. "What is he?"

The Hat smirked.

"Someone you don't want to cross," it said. "Someone not even your Dark Lord would want to cross if he was sane."

Severus' eyebrows furrowed.

"Potter is eleven," he pointed out. "He's a child."

"He's a ward smith," the Hat replied.

Severus had never heard of a ward smith.

"What -?"

"Have you ever heard about a ward's master?" The Hat asked.

Severus inclined his head.

"He is capable of warding. The best ward's master work at Gringotts," he replied.

"And have you ever heard of blood magic?" The Hat asked.

Severus' eyes widened at that.

"Potter knows blood magic," he said, fear lacing his voice. "The silver eyes – they're the manifestation of his blood magic!"

"They are," the Hat replied nodding. "But do you know why blood magic is so feared even among dark wizards?"

Severus shuddered.

"It's the first step towards necromancy," he said. "The ability to influence the dead."

The Hat's smile was oddly feral for a leather piece.

"Exactly," the Hat said. "Salazar is a ward _smith. _No ward's master can do what he can. No blood mage can influence their magic in the ways he can. A ward smith means that the person is not just a master in warding. It's a title that means so much more than it implies. It's the title of a true dark lord."

At that the Hat's face turned utterly severe.

"It would be best if you follow his rules from now on. It will end badly for you if you don't," the Hat said.

Severus forced himself to sneer at that.

"He still can only kill me," he said. "And I don't fear death."

The Hat snorted.

"He's a fully trained blood mage," the Hat said amused. "If he wants you to suffer, you will. Death won't be a sanctuary. Believe me. Necromancy is child's play for him."

It was then, that Severus stared to regret his past decisions over the last few months…

**Ss**

xXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxSortingxXxHatxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXx

**sSs**

_**Explanation:**_

_gúþwine - old English for 'Comrade in war'_

**sSs**

_So, that's it for today._

_Sorry that it took so long. I __had __a __little __writer__'s __block __in __this __story.__But__ I'__m __over __it __now__! __Yay__!_

_Well, 'till next time._

_Ebenbild_


End file.
